


The Cooking Lesson

by USS_Hannigram (uss_hilson)



Series: Realizations [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Demisexual Hannibal Lecter, Demisexuality, Fights, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uss_hilson/pseuds/USS_Hannigram
Summary: Based off Hannibal, S1, E7 – “Sorbet”, and S1, E8 – “Fromage”:After seeing Hannibal Lecter save a man’s life in an ambulance, Will Graham can’t get the image of Hannibal out of his eyes. Later, when Hannibal gets brutally attacked by Tobias Budge, Will does what is needed to keep Hannibal safe and in return, Hannibal offers to give Will a cooking lesson.
Relationships: Tobias Budge/Franklyn Froideveaux, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Realizations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128125
Comments: 12
Kudos: 84





	1. In the Ambulance

**Author's Note:**

> Just like Brian Fuller changed the characters of Thomas Harris, I have changed a few aspects of his interpretations of the characters.

Will Graham knew that his new friend and unofficial psychiatrist had previously been a surgeon, but he had never truly contemplated it until he saw Dr. Hannibal Lecter remove his jacket, roll up his shirt sleeves, and – after donning surgical gloves – enter the body of an unconscious man to assess the handiwork of a woeful doctor-in-training.

Oddly enough, while his subconscious brought up thoughts and connections that he had never made while awake, Will stood marveling at Lecter’s deft work, closing the incision made by Devon Silvestri, a man who had been studying for the MCAT and practicing black market surgeries in back alleys in an attempt to raise funds for medical school. In fact, not only was Lecter able to jump into assess the situation, but he was able to save a unconscious man’s life in the process. Any competent doctor could perform a standard surgery successfully, but it took one on a whole different level to be able to fix another’s sloppy work in less-than-ideal conditions without any prior briefing. The sight of Lecter’s hand inside that man stuck with Will for days – he saw it every time he closed his eyes for more than a second.

On the morning of the second day that Will had known Hannibal, Lecter had told him that Will would find him interesting. And upon telling Will that he’d found him interesting, Will retorted that he did not feel likewise about Lecter. “You will.” And he was right. Will couldn’t stop thinking about Hannibal uttering those two words to him. “ _You will_.” It was matter-of-fact, without conceit.

 _And now I do_ , Will thought to himself. Why did a man of Lecter’s talents stop performing surgeries when he was clearly so skilled at them? In a perfect world, each would contribute to society according to each’s ability. Surely, in a perfect world, Dr. Hannibal Lecter would still be a surgeon. That wasn’t to say that he wasn’t a skilled, if not unorthodox, psychiatrist, but why shy away from one’s natural talents?

Will embraced his natural talent. It was his ability to empathize with even unknown killers that made him such a rare, valuable asset to the FBI. Sure, he had discussed quitting several times with Jack, but each time Crawford reminded him of the good he did and the lives he saved. There could be no doubt that the psychological stress on his sanity was worth the effort it took Will to look into the mind of a killer to discover how he worked and where he would likely strike next. And even with all the resources the FBI had, it had no one who could accomplish what Will could. Sure, Jack had hunches (which is why his students referred to him as “the Guru”), but he his talents weren’t remotely akin to Will’s particular talents. The rest of the Bureau could run backgrounds and connect patterns, but Will possessed a unique skill, much like how only pigs seemed able to sniff out truffles. However, Will considered himself more than just swine….

After a week of seeing Hannibal in the ambulance each time he closed his eyes, Will decided that he had to see Lecter. Not for a session but for a visit. An intimate gathering where they could sit and really discuss their thoughts with one another. However, being on the spectrum made Will notoriously shy, so he thought that if he showed up with a bottle of wine on a Friday night, it could help segue the ebb of their conversation to something more intimate besides Will’s state of mind and current caseload. Will wanted to talk to Hannibal, he wanted to ask him why he’d left the operating room, and what precipitated his move to psychiatry. Hannibal was right, Will was undeniably intrigued by _and_ with him.

~~~~

Will stopped by a wine store that carried a variety of cheeses and sausages. He didn’t know too much about wine, but he knew that Hannibal seemed to prefer reds and Will also knew that everyone seemed to appreciate a nice cabernet sauvignon. He walked around, peering at various bottles, brow furrowed. The shopkeeper seemed to sense his indecision and approached him. “Are you looking for anything in particular? Is it a special occasion?”

“Uh, hi. Yes, I’m looking for a cab – a cabernet. Something nice. I appreciate wine, but I don’t really know too much about it and it should be something that could impress someone better-versed than me.”

The shopkeeper smiled kindly. “We should be able to find something to impress. Do you plan on drinking it soon?”

“Tonight, hopefully.”

“Well then, let me show you a few bottles.” Will followed the man to the next aisle. The man picked up a couple of bottles from the racks. “I’m not sure of your budget, but Norton makes a lovely cabernet. It’s an Argentinian vineyard most known for its malbec, but its devotees like their cab just as much, if not more, than the malbec. Or, if you’d like something a bit pricier but made in the U.S., I would suggest this Raymond. I got a good deal on a few cases of this, so it’s only $25 a bottle. Immediately drinkable, but could also age in your friend’s cellar for awhile.”

Will thought it over. He was certain that Hannibal had a wine cellar whereas Will usually just kept a bottle of Jameson or Four Roses on his bureau when he felt like a drink. “May I see the Raymond?”

“Certainly.” The shopkeeper held out a bottle for Will to inspect.

The bottle had a cream-colored label with a small red band around the bottom. It was Napa Valley, known nowadays to hold its own amongst any variety of French wine.

“I’ll take it. Thanks for your help.”

“My pleasure. I hope you and your lucky friend will enjoy it. And if you do, feel free to stop back soon. They’ll go quickly at this price.”

Will paid for the bottle and started over to Hannibal’s. He hadn’t known that Hannibal was hosting a dinner party, otherwise he never would have shown up. Regardless, Hannibal invited him in and asked him to stay for dinner, but Will was better in one-on-one visits instead of being surrounded by a bunch of socialites he wouldn’t know. “You know Alana, and I’m certain that I could even arrange for you to sit with her,” Hannibal offered.

“No, that’s okay. I just thought I’d stop by with some wine and thank you again for your help on that organ harvesting case. That man would have died without you.”

“Perhaps,” Hannibal looked at Will and smiled before straining some tomato puree for an appetizer he was finishing. He had turned back to look at the crushed tomatoes that were pressed against the cheesecloth.

“Hannibal, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you before I go, why did you stop performing surgery despite being so skilled at it?”

“Because I killed a man. Not directly, but by my inability to save him.”

Will shook his head in amazement. “But, even the most skilled surgeon can’t save everyone.”

“It was not my first time, but I wanted to ensure that it would be my last. I no longer wanted to allow my hands the opportunity to fail at their given task. Instead, I turned my anatomical knowledge towards my passion for cooking.”

“And you are a great cook.”

“Thank you. But are you sure that I can’t convince you to stay for dinner? I quite outdid myself with tonight’s menu, if I may say so myself.”

“No, not tonight. Some other time when it can be just the two of us.”

“Well then, I shall save this bottle until then,” Hannibal put his hand on the bottle of wine. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

Will’s mouth asked the question before his mind was aware that he was speaking. “Are you free tomorrow? I could stop by then?”

Hannibal blinked and looked at Will, surprised to see the wiry man who often avoided eye contact looking directly back at him. “Why don’t we plan on that? I will cook something especially for you.”

Will drove an hour back home to Wolf Trap, all the while thinking of Hannibal’s insistence that he stay for dinner, and then his subsequent offer of an intimate dinner. That would work out better, not just because the two men could be alone to talk amongst themselves, but because then Will could put a bit more thought into his appearance before he showed back up at Hannibal’s doorstep. He’d been compelled to go straight after work, after he’d purchased a bottle of wine that he hoped would please Hannibal.

Upon reflection, Will was surprised by his suggestion of getting together with Hannibal tomorrow. He was normally the first person to enjoy the solitude of cancelled plans, and the last person to follow up to reschedule them, especially so promptly. However, Will felt unable to control himself this time. He felt almost compelled to spend time with Hannibal and discover why he felt so intrigued by him. Before this, before seeing him work in the ambulance, Will might have taken up Hannibal’s offer to stay for the dinner party, knowing that he would have Alana for company. But Will wanted Hannibal’s undivided attention; he didn’t want to share him with a dozen other guests.

Will acknowledged to himself that his relationship with Hannibal was unique. He’d had other friends both growing up and as an adult, but no other relationship was as intense as his friendship with Hannibal. Hannibal was always asking him introspective questions which made Will question who he truly was, his exact nature. Many people had a hard time believing that Will experienced pure empathy, but not Hannibal. In fact, Hannibal seemed intensely curious about Will ever since Jack Crawford disclosed Will’s most unique trait.

Will wondered what Hannibal’s most unique trait was – he was talented in so many ways. Hannibal was a skilled surgeon, therapist, chef, artist, and musician. Will had happened upon some pencil sketches in Hannibal’s office once, and he was impressed with Hannibal’s skill. He supposed that it made sense that one with a high degree of anatomical knowledge would also be skilled in drawing the human form, but he couldn’t help but marvel at what a renaissance man Hannibal was – the man just seemed to excel at everything. Perhaps the one aspect of his life where Hannibal was deficient was in the area of familial ties. However, Will had no clue about Hannibal’s past besides knowing that he had a younger sister who appeared to have died some time ago.

Will turned his mind to Hannibal’s friends. He was Hannibal’s friend, and he was aware that Hannibal treated Jack as a friend. Alana also seemed to adore Hannibal. In fact, everyone seemed to adore Hannibal; however, like a cat, Hannibal appeared to like everyone well enough while maintaining an air of neutrality.


	2. Reflections at Home

Will arrived home to a flurry of wagging tails. He loved his pack. It was no secret that he collected strays. Once again, Will thought of Hannibal. Hannibal seemed to be a stray who enjoyed the pleasure of his own company, yet he also seemed to enjoy sitting across from Will, discussing cases and whatever else was on Will’s mind at any given time. In fact, there was once that Will had to impose on Hannibal to feed his dogs, and from Hannibal’s recollection of it, the dogs seemed to like him. Of course, Hannibal mentioned bringing sausage links, and Will supposed that his pack would like even a serial killer if he brought them gourmet sausages.

_What was he going to do tonight all by himself?_ Will had been certain that Hannibal would entertain his company, but now he was alone. In fact, he was lonesome. Will usually spent his nights alone, save for his dogs. The only time he seemed to have anywhere to be – that is, if he wasn’t in the thick of a case – was at an appointment with Hannibal. Or visiting with Hannibal. That was weird, wasn’t it? Perhaps Will should cast a wider net when it came to his free time and establishing friendships, but who else was there? Jack was married, and his wife was sick. Alana… was afraid of him. She’d never say it to his face, but Will knew.

Will sighed as he walked over to his refrigerator. Nothing sounded good. Of course, ever the bachelor, he didn’t have too much in his fridge anyhow. He ended up making a can of clam chowder soup and eating it straight from the pot in which he’d cooked it. Perhaps he should have accepted Hannibal’s dinner invitation after all, despite being nowhere near dressed enough for such an occasion.

Will put the pot and his spoon in the sink and ran water into the pot so that the remains of the soup wouldn’t congeal into cement. He had to admit, he loved Hannibal’s cooking. At least that gave him something to look forward to tomorrow. And tonight, he would take a hot bath and trim up so that he looked presentable for tomorrow. Will knew that Hannibal didn’t care what he looked like. Hell, Will could wear a Halloween costume and Hannibal wouldn’t care. However, Hannibal himself would look like he just stepped off of the cover of GQ Magazine. He was always impeccably dressed, shaven, with never a hair out of place. It was quite amazing, really.

~~~

Will drew himself a nice, hot bath, but even after he had been soaking for nearly a half hour, he was still in a foul mood. His mind wandered back to that night – Hannibal had come to find Will in his classroom, and then Jack instructed them both to come along on a lead – he’d had whereabouts for Devon Silvestri. Hannibal had expressed excitement at being allowed to join them, and he stayed near Will as if the two were field trip buddies, responsible for ensuring that the other one didn’t get separated from the rest of the class. 

Hannibal was very much his own man, but he let Jack Crawford order him around that night. He was under no obligation to remove his jacket and repair someone else’s attempted surgery but he did, nevertheless. He did so at command, wordlessly, with the confidence of someone who is a master of his art. Despite feeling around in an unconscious man’s body, Hannibal had still allowed his eyes to connect with Will’s. Will noticed for the first time that night that not only were Hannibal’s eyes hazel, but the depth to which they seemed to silently speak to him. Will’s mother had died before he had turned two, and he only had a few pictures of her. One was in color, and in that picture, her eyes were also hazel. Ever since then, Will seemed drawn to hazel eyes. Their complexity, their beauty.

Will let his head fall back, sinking lower so that his shoulders could become submerged in the bath. He never considered himself the marrying type, but if he could find someone with hazel eyes, soft skin, and a kind, playful smile, he might just fall in love. And if she could cook, too, that would probably clinch the deal. Alana was very kissable, although as a brunette, she wasn’t his usual type.

Will let himself create a figure out of thin air. Blond hair, hazel eyes… it had been so long since he had slept with anyone. While he wouldn’t go around mentioning it, Will had started to feel… _eager_ lately. He was probably less horny than most men, but he was still a man, after all. He picked up the bar of Dial soap that was nearby and submerged it in his bathwater. Straightening back up, Will manipulated the bar of soap in his hands until they were covered in little white suds. Then, he grabbed his penis, already semi-erect, and closed his eyes as his hands worked his shaft. Because it had been so long, it was only a matter of moments before he orgasmed. Will threw his head back as a guttural sound left his lips. It echoed off his bathroom walls, surrounding them. Finally, relief, after so long…


	3. Saturday

For the first time in some time, Will slept well. He woke up on Saturday feeling refreshed, and after breakfast, he went for a short hike with his dogs. He was looking forward to spending time alone with Hannibal tonight, but he didn’t do much besides go on the walk and work on his fishing lures. Tying flies always calmed him when he was anxious or excitable. Tying the perfect fly was also the sort of thing that some anglers spent their whole lives trying to perfect. But not Will – he just went with his gut instincts. Along with proving invaluable when it came to catching serial killers, his instincts and empathy also proved useful in tying flies (despite Will’s inability to see into a salmon’s mind).

After trimming up his stubble and brushing his teeth, Will put on a dark green shirt and khakis. It wasn’t one of Hannibal’s expensive, custom-tailored three-piece suits, but that wasn’t who Will was, and he figured that Hannibal would recognize the effort he took anyhow.

Will left Wolf Trap, Virginia shortly after five o’clock, stopped for gas, and arrived at Hannibal’s in Baltimore, Maryland, around 6:30 PM. He had barely rung Hannibal’s doorbell when he was greeted by his host. “Will,” Hannibal smiled, “it’s good to see you. Thank you for coming tonight.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Will returned Hannibal’s smile as he walked into the house. “I enjoy spending time with you.” _Why had he said that?_

“And I with you. I hope I wasn’t too presumptuous in assuming that you like rack of lamb.”

“Not at all! I haven’t had lamb in awhile, so it’ll be a real treat.”

Hannibal turned to look at Will as the two men walked into Hannibal’s kitchen. “Tell me, Will, how well do you attend to your own body?” Will blushed, thinking of how he attended to himself in the bath the night before. “How often do you cook for yourself – not simply because you need to eat – but to truly nourish your mind, body, and soul?”

Will blinked a few times, taken aback by Hannibal’s question. “Well, um… I made myself a can of soup last night, if that counts.”

Hannibal grabbed two wine glasses. “No, it does not.”

“Well then, I’m afraid that I hardly ever cook for myself unless I go fishing and catch something.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow as he pulled the plunger out of the bottle Will had brought the night before. “That is at least a start. However, I worry about you not getting all that you need, especially with how hard you work when you’re out in the field.”

Will took a glass from Hannibal, holding it up to the light before taking a small sip. “Your job must be stressful too, surely you don’t cook a four-course meal for yourself every night.”

Hannibal winked. “No. Sometimes I have leftovers.” Will laughed. “But Will, you must promise me to never tell another soul.” Hannibal put his hand on Will’s shoulder. He made Will feel warm, invited, and at home every time Will was with Hannibal.

Hannibal’s eyes seemed to dance in the light. Somehow, Will managed to amuse him just by being himself. Everyone else who knew Will in the slightest seemed wary of him, but not Hannibal. Instead, Hannibal seemed curious. He seemed to want to truly know Will, even if Will was fundamentally different from most people. Of course, Hannibal had insisted that they were alike, but other than being strays, Will had a hard time recognizing that.

Will took another sip of his wine – he was impressed by it and would definitely go back and snag another bottle for the next time that Hannibal invited him to dinner. “All this talk of food is making me hungry. Can I help you with anything? Are there potatoes to peel or carrots to cut?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ve prepared fig crostini as our starter. Fresh figs and lamb are a match made in heaven. And to go with our main course, I have a garlic and vegetable mix roasting with the lamb. Garlic, baby potatoes, carrots, thyme, and parsnips.”

“I love parsnips!”

“I’m glad to hear it. After all, as delicious as it is, man cannot live on meat alone. And if you will allow me to cheat for dessert, I have some leftover quince and almond tart with brandy. In fact, I also have some brandy as an aperitif.” 

Will’s eyebrows raised as he grinned like a fool. “That all sounds amazing!”

“Good. I would hate to disappoint you.”

“You might need to give me cooking lessons once work calms down. Otherwise, if you ever come over, all I’m going to have for you is grilled cheese.”

“If it means teaching you how to cook, I will gladly do so to avoid a grilled cheese.”

Hannibal usually insisted that his guests take their places at his table, but tonight he let Will stay with him in the kitchen. Will refilled their glasses before taking them out to the table as Hannibal carried the dishes. 

Will tried a fig crostini and closed his eyes, realizing that Hannibal was right. The sweetness of the figs was the perfect complement to the lamb, which he tried next. After finishing a bite of meat and chasing it with some wine, Will asked, “How did your dinner party go last night?”

“It went as expected, meaning that it went well, without a hitch. However, I couldn’t help thinking that there was room and food at my table for one more.”

Will grimaced in response. “Sorry, it’s just that I do better one-on-one. I’ve never been one for big crowds of people.”

“I understand. But you must remember that you can always come to me. If I’m here, you’ll get my attention.”

“I appreciate that.” Will shook his head as he looked at his plate. “Sometimes, I feel like you’re the only one who accepts me for who I truly am.”

“You’re probably right.”

Will took a bite of the vegetable medley. “Mmm, this is delicious. Do you really cook like this just for yourself, too? You don’t ever just boil up a hot dog or something?” Even as he said it, Will knew it sounded ridiculous. He started into a fit of laughter as Hannibal cocked his head and grinned.

“Will, do you really think I eat hot dogs?”

Will shook his head ‘no’ as he finished his glass of wine. Hannibal was up and refilling Will’s glass before he had a chance to refuse. This had to be his second or third glass already tonight, and he would eventually have to drive home. “You spoil me.” Hannibal was still standing near him as Will spoke; again, he put his hand on Will’s shoulder.

“Far too many people neglect you, and far more still take advantage of your special talents. All I want of you is for you to know yourself and for me to be allowed to enjoy your company as you do so.” Will looked up, fighting back the tears that seemed to appear out of nowhere. _Perhaps he should slow it on the wine…._

After Hannibal sat back down, Will asked, “Why do you find me so interesting?”

“Surely, others have found you interesting.”

“Chilton tried to get me to agree to be analyzed the first time he met me. Alana has told me that she has a professional curiosity about me. So, what is it with you?”

“I see myself in you. I do not share your pure empathy, but we both share the fact that we are unique and that few people truly take the time to know our hearts.”

“What about all your fancy party guests yesterday?”

“Most of them were from the Baltimore Concert Opera or the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. They were fellow fans of the fine arts. Acquaintances, yes, but not friends. Not true friends, like you, Will.”

“Well, I know nothing about opera or orchestras, so it’s for the best that I didn’t stay last night.”

“Have you ever watched Looney Tunes, Will?”

“Of course, who hasn’t?”

“Then you have seen Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd performing opera. You have heard The William Tell Overture, and The Barber of Seville. You know The Blue Danube by Strauss, and Beethoven’s Seventh.”

“Huh. I guess I never thought about it like that.”

“Of course not. Otherwise, you would have realized that you enjoy a variety of timeless pieces and that you would have been at home here amongst last night’s crowd.”

Will shook his head. “Nope. I’d be clueless without you, and I couldn’t just stick by your side all night.”

“Why not?”

“Well… I just… it would be odd, wouldn’t it?”

“Not if you do not perceive it as such. Besides, society deems many things odd or taboo when, in terms of practicality, they make more sense than what is viewed as accepted traditionally.”

“Like what?”

“Homosexuality. Long-term romantic relationships without children. Cannibalism.”

Will choked slightly on his piece of meat. He pointed to his mouth with his fork. “This _is_ actually lamb, isn’t it?”

“Of course. Only a fool would think the pathology of a lamb and human similar enough to disguise man as a rack of lamb.”

Will had started to take a sip of wine to ease his coughing when he found himself putting a hand over his mouth and nose. Wine wanted to exit each. “Dammit, Hannibal!” Will laughed.

Lecter wore a lopsided grin as his eyes sparkled. “I haven’t been able to do that to anyone in a while.”

Will raised a wine glass. “Here’s to your second career as a comedian.” Hannibal raised his glass and met Will’s gaze before taking a sip of wine. Will’s eyebrows went up as he held his glass up to the light. “It’s good, isn’t it? Sorry, this is mine, right? That’s rude of me. Maybe I’ve enjoyed it too much.” He spoke too quickly. _Perhaps he was drunk._

“Not at all. In fact, I was thinking the same thing; it is quite nice. I didn’t realize that you knew wine, Will.”

Will blushed slightly as he avoided Hannibal’s gaze. “Oh no, I don’t. I had the guy at the shop help me. But, I’ll definitely be making a return trip. As long as he’s there, I should be in decent shape. At least I know enough not to bring you Boone’s Farm or Arbor Mist.”

This time, it was Hannibal’s turn to choke on a sip of wine. “Touché, William.”

“William?” Will repeated in mock outrage. “When did anyone ever tell you that my name is actually William? It could be Wilford.”

“I had to fill out paperwork from Jack Crawford to claim you were fit for duty, remember?”

Will smiled from ear to ear. “Well, fuck Jack Crawford then!” His eyes glittered mischievously. It was no secret that Crawford’s crew all feared his temper, but no one dare say such to Jack’s face.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows quickly. “I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.”

Will broke into a fit of laughter. “That makes two of us!”


	4. After Dinner

The men finished dinner and Hannibal reminded Will that there was still dessert to be had. “Oh god, you’re killing me,” Will replied, finishing what remained in his wine glass. “I swear, Hannibal, I have no clue how you stay so fit. If I ate like this every night, I’d be huge. All this rich food? You’re making human foie gras, aren’t you?”

Hannibal turned to look at Will as he cleared their dinner plates. “If I were to taste one part of you, it would not be your liver.” 

Will’s smile started to fade in confusion. “I thought it was what the goose threw up after you force fed it? Wait, if that were the case, we’d taste alike anyhow tonight, wouldn’t we?”

Hannibal grinned broadly in response. “Perhaps, although I do believe we should be sweetened up first.” He reached into his freezer to pull out an exotic brandy infused vanilla ice cream to accompany the tart that was on his kitchen island.

“Hannibal, this smells amazing.” Will took a small spoonful of the tart with the ice cream. “What flavor is this?”

“It’s a special edition vanilla concoction from a small local creamery. Shall we sit?” Will followed Hannibal to the sitting room before pulling his spoon out of his mouth and holding it up as if about to make thoughtful statement.

“Wait, I almost forgot!” Hannibal trotted over to his bar and poured two large snifters of Remy Martin XO. After Will took a glass, Hannibal raised his own glass once more to Will. “To making us taste delectable.” 

Will blinked and smiled. “Here’s to being sumptuous!” He took a large sip before sitting back. “Wow, Hannibal, this stuff is _good_.” He took another bite of the tart. “And it goes along great with this, too!”

“I’m glad you approve of my taste.” He let his eyes wander down Will’s body as he sat opposite of his guest. No one had yet guessed how in love he was with Will Graham. And no one would, no one except Will, if he ever decided to tell him. It didn’t matter though. Hannibal knew that his love was not a healthy one, and that it would destroy Will eventually. Eventually, most children learn that if they truly love a field of flowers, they let them flourish instead of picking them. However, Hannibal had not been like most children….

Hannibal put on Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde as the two men talked. They enjoyed one another’s company even more than Hannibal’s masterful dessert. “So starben wir um ungetrennt, …. Ewig einig ohne End, ... ohn’ Erwachen, ohn’ Erbangen…. Namenlos in Lieb’ umFangen, …. Ganz uns selbst gegeben, ... de liebe nur zu leben!” (“ _So we might die together, united without ending; … waking, never fearing, namelessly enclosed in love with no thought of self, … to live for love alone_!”)

Will took a sip of brandy and started to blush. “Hannibal, what is this?” The song sounded like two lovers were pouring their hearts out to one another as the orchestra sounded almost… seductive.

“Oh, this? Just a Wagner opera,” Lecter responded as if he hadn’t intentionally picked a romantic opera. So long as Will didn’t ask too many questions, Hannibal was certain that Will wouldn’t put two and two together. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“See, and here you thought that you didn’t like opera.”

“This is… _Hannibal_.” Lecter’s smile broadened at Will’s shocked, confounded expression. “Hannibal, you really do know me better than I know myself.”

“Knowledge is merely realization. One day yet, you may be able to see yourself through my eyes.”

“You’d think with my ability to read killers, I could read you like a book.”

“Are you accusing me of murder, Will?” Hannibal took a sip of brandy, letting his tongue reach down to retrieve an errant drop that had started to run down his lip. Will noticed how moist Hannibal’s lip looked after he licked it.

“I’m just saying that if I can read someone so evil, I should be able to read you.” Hannibal’s eyebrows shot up. “I mean, if I can routinely read a killer’s, I should be able to read your mind because you’re my friend.”

If Will hadn’t added those last four words, Hannibal might have wondered if Will had _finally_ put it all together. Heaven knows that Hannibal had alluded to it enough. In fact, while he would prefer to avoid Will’s ability to catch him, Hannibal had known from the moment they met that Will would eventually figure out what he was: a monster. If only he could help Will realize his own true nature, they could hunt together. **It would be beautiful.**

“Hannibal, are you crying?”

Hannibal snapped out of his own mind. He could feel a slight dampness at the corners of his eyes, but he chose to ignore Will’s observation. Instead, he stood up and grabbed his decanter to refill their glasses.

“Well, if you’re going to do that, I’m going to try the ice cream with a sip of brandy.” Hannibal watched as Will took a spoonful of ice cream before taking a generous gulp form his newly replenished glass. 

“And what is your assessment?”

Will’s eyes grew wide in response. “Hannibal, it’s amazing! You’ve got to try it, it’s like sex.”

Hannibal’s eyes met Will’s as he smirked. “As good as sex with whom?”

Will blushed. He took another sip of his brandy before answering. “Um, it’s been awhile so… just in general. How about you?”

Hannibal was surprised at the personal question. “It’s been awhile for me, also.” Both men laughed.

“Maybe if I went out more instead of coming to see you, I would be able to name someone from the last few years.”

“A true gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Enough of this stuff and I’d spill my darkest secrets. You’re not trying to get me drunk, are you, Hannibal?”

“Not at all.”

“Well,” Will drained most of his snifter, “too late. I hope you didn’t have plans tonight because there’s no possible way I can drive home.”

“I told you that you are always welcome here.”

“What would I do without you, Hannibal?”

“You probably wouldn’t be inebriated right now, or if you were, it would at least be in your own home.”

“True,” Will finished the last bit of his brandy. “But it wouldn’t be nearly as fun as I’m having now.”

“You’re having fun now, Will?”

Will slapped his hands on his knees. “Of course I am! I always enjoy our dinners.”

‘Then I shall make a note to host you more often.” Hannibal smiled broadly.

“Just say when.” Will’s lips took on a cracked smile. “ _Hannibal…._ ”

“Yes?”

Will hesitated as if trying to clear his head. “I just, thank you for tonight. And for everything. I suppose you’re my best friend, as weird as that is considering that you’re also my psychiatrist, unofficially. But, you’re also my colleague of sorts. Seeing you in that ambulance, well, I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

Hearing Will admit his fascination with him caused Hannibal’s pulse to quicken. “I told you that you’d find me interesting.”

“And even then, I was impressed with your cooking. That sausage was unlike anything I’ve ever had before or since.”

“That’s because it’s my secret proprietary blend. However, I believe I have some in my freezer. Perhaps I can dethaw some for our breakfast tomorrow.”

“I should stay over more often.”

“You should,” Hannibal replied. “Unlike you, I don’t even have dogs for companionship. I need you just as much as you need me, Will.” (Hannibal actually needed Will _more_ than Will needed him, but he wasn’t ready to admit such to anyone but himself.) 

Hannibal rose to take their empty bowls to the kitchen. Will’s had been resting on the side table next to his chair, and when he went to grab Will’s bowl, Will grabbed his wrist. It was the first time that Will had ever reached out to physically touch him.

“I do need you, Hannibal.” Will looked up at him with eyes that would melt the heart of the most hardened criminal. For one of the few times in his adult life, Hannibal was uncertain how to respond. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to bend down and grab Will’s chin and raise Will’s lips up to his. He wanted to run his hands through Will’s curly locks and breath heavily as his tongue found Will’s. However, Hannibal would satisfy himself with the fact that Will had called him his best friend. Even from a purely platonic standpoint, Hannibal did not have many true friends, so he appreciated Will’s companionship all that much more.

Without answering Will, Hannibal turned to go to the kitchen to deposit their empty bowls and Will’s snifter. “Hey, what if I want more?” Will called out sardonically.

“I have a feeling that you’ll be out like a light in 20 minutes,” Hannibal called back. After running a bit of tap water in the dishes, Hannibal reentered his sitting room but did not find Will waiting for him. “Will?” He heard nothing. A slight well of panic erupted in Hannibal. Will was known to wander off and while any incriminating items he could possibly find were locked away, Hannibal preferred not to take any chances.

Walking carefully, Hannibal started checking nearby rooms until he found Will in his study. Hannibal’s study boasted an antique chaise upholstered in crushed red velvet. Laying on it was Will Graham, his head resting against a pillow, one arm slumped off of the chaise, dangling. “Will, there you are.”

Will raised his head slightly. “Huh?”

“Will you be making this your bed tonight?”

“I’m so tired.” Will’s lips made a smacking noise.

“Well then, let’s make you comfortable.” Hannibal walked over to an old steamer trunk and withdrew a finely crafted rabbit pelt throw that a former patient, Mr. Randall Tier, had gifted him. Before draping it on Will, he set it on the couch’s armrest so that he could untie and remove Will’s shoes. Not only did he detest shoes touching his furniture – especially when such was expensive or antique, both categories this piece fit – but he knew that Will would sleep better if his shoes were off, too. Hannibal neatly placed Will’s shoes near his makeshift bed so that Will could find them in the morning. He then unfolded the rabbit throw and gently placed it over Will’s sleepy body. After ensuring that Will’s feet were covered, Hannibal worked his way upwards, laying the generous throw over Will’s shoulder. By this point, Will had rolled onto one side. As Hannibal tucked the blanket between Will’s back and the chaise, he bent down and smelled Will. Ordinarily, Hannibal would be turned off by Will’s department store aftershave, but at the moment, Will’s natural musk overpowered the splashed-on fragrance that had a ship on its bottle. Hannibal allowed himself to close his eyes as he took in Will’s scent, pausing briefly before rising and heading to start a fire in the hearth approximately eight feet across from where Will lay.

The crackle of the initial kindling catching fire did not bother Will. In fact, on the contrary, Will moaned happily in his sleep, a slight smile playing on his face. Hannibal admired the man who lay across from him before exiting the room, closing the door behind him and retreating upstairs to his own bedroom for the night.

~~~

Hannibal never drank to excess. However, he always felt that two aspirin with a large glass of water before bed helped stave off any effects of dehydration he might otherwise experience after a night filled with wine and brandy. He awoke at his normal time (Hannibal never slept in unless he was unwell, even on the weekend), threw on a robe, and headed downstairs. He checked the study door, but it was still closed. Likely, Will was still sleeping. He brought in the morning paper and read through any interesting articles before setting it aside and starting breakfast. Coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice were the first courses of business. He pulled some ham out of his refrigerator along with crème fraiche, eggs, milk, and scallions. No one – save maybe Wolfgang Puck – could make an omelet that could compare to Hannibal’s. Hannibal also sliced several pieces of bread and diced up some fruit to provide them both with toast and fruit salad. As he poured the egg mixture for the omelets into a frying pan, the pan sizzled as the heated surface reacted to being touched. A couple of minutes later, upon faintly smelling coffee and realizing that he was sporting a wicked hangover, Will stumbled into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Will.”

Will held up a hand to shield his eyes from the bank of lights in Hannibal’s kitchen. “How do you not feel like death right now?” Will followed up his question with a moan, preventing Hannibal from responding that, from an early age, he’d actually considered himself an agent of Death.

Hannibal poured a fresh cup of coffee and brought it to Will. “I recall that you take it black, yes?”

“Yes. Thanks.” Will took the cup and put it to his lips, feeling the heat radiate up his face before cautiously taking a sip. He was pleasantly surprised that the coffee was the perfect temperature to drink already – he’d learned the hard way, usually twice a year – and normally when he attempted to gulp down his coffee when hungover – that it was usually still scalding hot when he first got it. “Mmm, perfect. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Now, if you’ll go into the dining room, breakfast is almost ready.” Will nodded and walked off to do as he was told. He already knew that Hannibal had made a terrific breakfast, and despite his hangover, Will was quite hungry.

Hannibal came out with Will’s food first, and in the midst of his hangover, Will forgot to wait for Hannibal before digging in. Hannibal came back with his own dishes and left once more to grab the pitcher of orange juice and a carafe of coffee. “Oh my god, Hannibal, this fruit is delicious! What sort of oranges are in this?”

“They are blood oranges; I’m glad that you like them.”

Will looked down at his fruit bowl, his forked poised to shove more into his mouth when he remembered how rude he’d been. “Oh… I’m sorry for my bad manners. I should’ve warned you, I get ravenous and impatient the morning after drinking as much as we did last night.”

Hannibal held his fork in the air as he spoke. “Now I know for next time.” He grinned good-naturedly at Will.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll want me drinking and crashing on your couch again.” Will tried his omelet. “Oh my god, this is good!”

“See, it behooves you to come to my house at night and get inebriated. Then I’ll make you breakfast the next morning.”

“Last time I did this, a girlfriend’s parents had stopped by to visit. She’d told her folks that she was saving herself for marriage, but they found me in just my boxers. Needless to say, she became my ex-girlfriend shortly after that.”

Hannibal smirked, his head tilted as he regarded Will. “Our night was completely plutonic, but now I’m beginning to think that I was cheated.”

Will laughed. “Yeah, because everyone wants a piece of this.” He ran a hand over his stubble. “Perhaps I’m just using you for your cooking skills and fancy taste in liquor, Dr. Lecter.”

“Perhaps I’m allowing you to use me.” Hannibal kept his gaze fixed to his plate after responding. He loved when Will let his guard down enough to be playful like this – in fact, Will was being downright flirtatious, just as he had been last night. Perhaps he only let himself open up when he’d been drinking. Hannibal felt Will’s eyes on him, so he looked up.

“Hannibal, my god, did I embarrass you?”

“Not at all.”

“I mean, you’re not blushing, but you’re avoiding my gaze.”

“I seem to recall when I first met you that you told me that you didn’t like looking into other people’s eyes, that you either saw too much or not enough.”

“Look at me now and let me find out what I see in your eyes.” Hannibal did as he was told, fixing his gaze straight on Will. He leaned forward slightly, blindly setting his fork down with a grace Will had never known anyone else to possess.

“Tell me, Will, now that you’re looking into my eyes, what do you see?” Will tried to keep Hannibal’s gaze but broke off eye contract, looking down as he felt the blood rush to his face.

After a moment, Will regained his composure and looked at Hannibal again. “I…. I see hazel eyes. _And I see_ _my friend_.”

“Indeed.” Hannibal smiled at Will’s admission of friendship and the men continued their breakfast.


	5. After Breakfast

By the time they had finished breakfast and Will had taken a few aspirins, he was feeling better, no longer hung over. “I don’t know how you didn’t wake up like me, feeling like your head was too small.”

“I take two of these with one of those before going to bed.” Hannibal pointed towards the aspirin and then the water glass in Will’s hands. “Besides, I never allow myself to get drunk.”

“But, you were having a good time last night.”

“Yes, but that had more to do with the company than the liquor, wine, or food.”

Will looked touched. “I don’t think that anyone has ever said before that my mere presence was intoxicating.”

“Now, I didn’t exactly say that, did I?” Hannibal’s eyes were sparkling.

Will guffawed, reaching out to give Hannibal’s arm a playful shove. In all the time they’d known each other, it had only been within the last 12 hours that Will had ever reached out to touch him. “Well….” Their eyes met, alight up from humor. Will raised his eyebrows and looked away again. “…I suppose I should get going. The dogs are probably missing me.”

“Thank you for coming, Will. You’re always welcome at my table and in my home, whether it’s at a grand party or dinner for just the two of us.”

“I prefer dinner for just the two of us.”

So did Hannibal, but he merely offered a smile as he saw Will to the front door. “Drive safely.”

“Thank you, Hannibal.”

~~~

Will drove home feeling completely sober yet confused by all of the happenings at Hannibal’s. The man had hosted an elaborate dinner party not 24 hours before he prepared an ornate dinner on Will’s behalf. He poured drinks liberally, although Will seemed just as eager to empty those glasses and go get more. Their conversation was… organic. It flowed naturally, although the wine and brandy seemed to steer them into an intimate, jovial familiarity Will never recalled previously giving to or getting from Lecter. _What was it?_ A flash of Hannibal’s shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows appeared in Will’s mind. Hannibal, sitting in that cramped ambulance, deftly saving a stranger’s live. **It was friendship. (That had to be it.)**


	6. The Orchestra Killer

Will’s work kept him occupied and unable to touch base with Hannibal for several days. He spent up a week typing up lose ends to various solved cases, pushing hard to get them done before anything new occurred. He just had a feeling…. And no sooner had Will gone into work the Monday after playing catch-up than Jack Crawford had called a meeting. They had to get to the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra Hall. There had been a murder. “How do we know for sure it’s a murder?” Zeller had asked.

“Because there was a damned instrument fretboard shoved down the guy’s mouth and his throat had been cut open. Got any more stupid questions before we get there?” Jack asked crossly. 

Jimmy Price looked at his partner as if to tell him to shut the hell up. “No, one’s plenty for me, thanks,” Zeller responded meekly.

“ **Good.** ” Jack Crawford wasn’t the type of person who had to get the last word – he only did it as a display of dominance over his staff. He had them all trained well enough to know to stay quiet after he’d barked at them, all except Will Graham. Then again, that’s the reason Graham was only a special agent, wasn’t it? Too much of a loose cannon to trust completely. But there was no denying that the guy was a unique sort of brilliant, and he could make connections and solve cases in ways that no one else could, so that made him valuable to Jack. Valuable enough to put up with the occasional sarcastic reply.

The BSO’s chair of its Board of Directors, Mr. Bernie Resin, had met them when they arrived. “Thank you for coming, Agent Crawford. As you can surely understand, this is an utter tragedy for us both professional and as a family of musicians.”

“Was this guy bad?” Will asked abruptly.

“What?” Resin asked, taken aback by Will’s question.

“Did this” – Will noticed a trombone laying next to the corpse – “trombonist, was his playing substandard compared to the rest of the orchestra?”

“Mr….”

“ **Graham**. This is special agent Will Graham. His methods may be unorthodox, but he’s got an uncanny ability to put together the missing pieces of nearly every murder we’ve handled recently,” Jack commented. Will’s method of directly questioning strangers without even introducing himself often came off as rude, but Jack knew that Graham meant well.

“Mr. Graham, sir, I take it that you’re not a recent patron?”

“No. In fact, I only just recently got into opera.”

“Who is your favorite composer thus far?”

“Wagner.”

Resin had been prepared to criticize the agent’s choice, but he was pleasantly surprised. “Well, it appears that you’ve got an intrinsically good ear. I’d love to have you return as a guest of the orchestra once we’re put all this behind us.”

“Thank you, but my friend is actually the one with the good taste.”

“Well then, we’ll have to have you both come to our upcoming performance of Pacini’s ‘Carlo di Borgogna’, providing that we can replace our assistant principal trombonist.”

“And that no one else ends up like… that.” Jack finished his comment by pointing to the stage. “Was it lit like that when he was found?”

“Yes, our custodian cleans every other week, and always after the final performance of a symphony. We’d recently finished up a run of La Traviata this past Saturday night for a fundraiser we were throwing. That’s actually why I was a bit caught off guard by Mr. Graham’s rather astute question. In fact, _he,_ ” Resin pointed to the body on stage, “was off key for a majority of the performance Saturday night. It was quite embarrassing, really. I mean, not only was he flat, but he played during a grand pause.” Resin saw Jack’s face register slight confusion. “That’s when the whole orchestra is _supposed_ to be silent. It gives dramatic effect. Needless to say, it was as if he had a solo of mediocrity.” Resin’s comment reminded Will of Hannibal. He could only imagine what Hannibal would say about such a lackluster performance. In fact, if he were the murdering type, Hannibal might not wholly disapprove of this murder. If anything, it provided the BSO with an easy excuse for replacing their second trombonist.

Resin climbed the stairs to the stage with Jack’s crew closely behind. Jack spoke up. “Do you think that this could have been another orchestra member, perhaps upset from Saturday’s performance? Maybe someone waiting in the wings to fill the position?”

“No, I don’t think so. We do have another trombonist with us at the moment, but he’s just a visiting performer. That’s quite common, to go around the national orchestra circuit and play guest performances. Sometimes these guys – _and women_ ,” Resin added, looking at Beverly Katz, “pull in big crowds. Usually that’s only the case if they’re a pianist or other string player though. In fact, three months ago we had world renown cellist, Julian Lloyd Webber with his wife, Jiaxin Cheng. They played to a packed house. And two years ago, we were lucky enough to have Yo-Yo Ma grace our stage, but I digress.”

“Yes,” Jack sounded irritated. He didn’t need a damned music lesson, he needed to solve this damned murder. In fact, it was Beverly, who played violin growing up, who spoke up when she recognized that the dead man’s throat appeared to be treated as if his vocal cords were cello strings.

“Why a cello?” Jack asked.

“That’s a cello fretboard,” Resin explained. “Your agent here is very astute. Are you a musician?”

“Not anymore.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sure you were very talented.”

Beverly smiled. “Not that talented, otherwise I’d be working for you and not the FBI.” Beverly’s attractiveness was undeniable. Even Jimmy Price, who was gay, acknowledged that Beverly looked great in her signature black leather bike jacket.

“Yes, and we’re happy to have her, but back to the matter at hand,” Jack remarked.

“He was peacocking for someone. A member of the audience. And this guy, he’s a string player,” Will commented.

“A musician who is skilled enough to do this, who doesn’t play with our organization, but is obviously a frequent enough patron to know that Jacobitz has had issues for some time now?” Resin asked, helping Will put together some of the missing pieces of his puzzle.

“And who did this for someone who is likely also an avid patron,” Will added.

“What caused the performance issues?” Beverly asked.

“Divorce. His wife left him for the principal clarinetist for the DSO.”

“Detroit Symphony?” Jack asked.

“Yes. She’d been a special performer up at the Interlochen Center for the Arts, and if it’s one thing that clarinetists have over trombonists, it’s their tonguing technique.” Resin immediately blushed. That had been the joke going around the ranks at the BSO when Jacobitz was going through his divorce, but he shouldn’t have repeated it in front of the FBI, especially not with a woman present.

“And trombonists are more conceited than anyone else save the concert master,” Beverly added. Everyone turned to look at her. “I should know, I was the concert master in high school.” She smirked.

“And to think that all you heteros refused us the right to get married and be as miserable as you for so long,” Jimmy quipped quietly to Zeller.

“Hey man, don’t look at me. I’m fine with you wanting guys, ‘leaves more chicks for me.” Jimmy chuckled at his work husband’s joke. Zeller was the only one who hung out with him outside of the fully sanctioned FBI social events. While he could be a total dude bruh at times, Zeller was also the one who, catching Jimmy drunk at work after a particularly bad breakup, took him back to his place and let him crash for the weekend. They subsisted off of stale pizza and leftover Chinese food, and watched old black and white movies. In seven years’ time, once Zeller had matured enough to actually settle down with a woman, it would be Jimmy instead of Zeller’s own brother, Ron, who would be his best man.

“I really do think that perhaps you missed your calling,” Resin addressed Beverly.

“ ** _Getting back to the matter at hand,_** **_once again_** ,” Jack interjected. “Will, you think this guy is a frequent patron who is also a string player, trying to impress another patron?”

“Yeah.” Will concentrated his focus on the dead man’s neck. The killer was trying to tell Will his thoughts, but Will was too distracted.

“Mr. Resin, do you happen to have a list of frequent, repeat patrons?”

Resin bit his lip and closed his eyes shut tight as he thought. “We have a Friends of the BSO group, but it’s pretty much just a newsletter that allows for early bird ticket sales.”

“I bet Dr. Lecter’s on that list,” Will heard Beverly remark, “maybe we should ask him if he’s run into any weird concertgoers.” 

**The voice was getting louder.** “ _I had to open you up to finally get a good sound out of you_ ,” Will hissed darkly. Everyone else turned to look at him. Resin looked terrified.

Waves were crashing against a sandy beach somewhere in the deep south. Someplace there were more gators than people. Will heard the noise but ignored it as he turned to see Garrett Jacob Hobbs sitting in the audience. He was clapping, smiling. Behind him was the Wendigo, his arms outstretched, ready to ring Hobbs’ neck and finally put him to sleep in Will’s mind. Will had killed Hobbs in waking life, and his shadowy partner, the Wendigo, would free Will’s dreams of Hobbs. They were never as effective as when they worked together, even if the Wendigo frightened and confused Will at times.

“Will! Earth to Will!” The sound of the ocean became that of Jack Crawford, shouting at Graham. Will shook his head to bring himself back to reality.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you say that, what are you seeing?”

“I just, it just came to me.” Will looked around until he spotted Beverly’s face. “Did you say that Hannibal might know this person?”

“I mean, why not? He’s into all this high society art stuff, right? We might want to ask him, he seems pretty perceptive.”

“Who is this… Hannibal?” Resin asked, his previous horror and disgust turning to confusion.

“Dr. Lecter,” Jack paused for a moment to avoid mentioning Lecter’s role in Will being back in the field. “Dr. Lecter is a respected Baltimore psychiatrist with whom we consult from time to time. In fact, I believe that when we eventually catch the Chesapeake Ripper, Dr. Lecter will be a crucial element.”

“Dr. _Hannibal_ Lecter?” Resin’s eyes flashed with a moment of clarity. “Ah, yes. The psychiatrist. Yes, he is both well-known and well-liked among the orchestra’s who’s who. In fact, there’s talk of nominating him for the board when the next position opens up.”

“So, you’re aware of Dr. Lecter, and there’s a chance, however slim, that he may know or have noticed our killer?” Jack asked.

Resin nodded. “Why yes, yes indeed.”

“Then Hannibal could be in danger. Jack, I’m going to him now. I’ll touch base with you later.” Will turned to leave without uttering another word, before Jack had a chance to ask him to wait. Anyone could go warn Lecter. Hell, Jack could’ve just called him on his cell, for that matter, so why did Will turn tail and run out of the orchestra hall as if he’d had an epiphany?


	7. Finding Hannibal

It just so happened that Hannibal had no patients until after lunch the Monday that Will ran off from the BSO, concerned for his safety. Unaware of Hannibal’s schedule, he tried the office first. It was locked, it seemed uninhabited, and Lecter’s Bentley was conspicuously absent from its usual spot behind the building. Despite all signs pointing to Lecter’s absence from his office, Will Graham called the office line. It rang until a voicemail greeting, recorded by Lecter himself, started playing. Damn! Will tried Hannibal’s home phone and then his cell phone, and both clicked over to voicemail. On all three lines, Will left the same frantic message. “Hannibal, this is Will. I have to talk to you right away. It’s important, your life could be in danger. Call me as soon as you get this, please!”

After leaving his third voicemail in as many minutes, Will got back into his car and sped to Hannibal’s house. It had been apparent to everyone that this killer was smart. He was an intelligent psychopath. For all Will knew, Hannibal could be in grave danger. He wouldn’t consciously admit to himself his worse fear (that Hannibal may already be dead). _Dammit, why was there so much traffic this late in the morning? And why did Hannibal’s house seem so far away?_

At Hannibal’s just a few minutes later, Will nearly screeched into the driveway as he stomped on his car’s brakes. He jumped out and tried the front door, but it was locked. Knowing that the French doors leading off of Hannibal’s dining room were sometimes left unlocked, Will went around to the back of the house. He tried the doors, but they were locked today. Pulling out his cell phone, Will tried Hannibal’s landline again. He could hear it ringing in the kitchen but yet again, it went to voicemail. _Dammit, where was he?_

Will’s sense of panic kept rising until he pulled out his revolver and used the butt to break one of the panes of glass in Hannibal’s French doors so that he could unlock the doors and let himself in. “Hannibal, are you here? Hannibal?” Will called out as he carefully walked around the first floor, nervous about what he might find. Turning up empty, Will carefully began climbing the stairs to Hannibal’s second story. “Hannibal,” Will cried out.

Hannibal had no sooner turned off his shower than he could have sworn that he had heard someone call out his name. He stayed still to focus his hearing, but after hearing nothing, he ran his hands over his hair to remove the excess water before reaching to the towel rack just outside of his shower stall. He let the absorbent towel wick away errant moisture from various areas of his body before he heard – for certain this time – someone calling out his name. Perplexed, he wrapped the towel around his torso and cautiously made his way to the bathroom door. “Hello?” he called out calmly.

“Hannibal, thank god!” Will holstered his gun after turning around to the sound of Lecter’s voice. “Hannibal, I’m so glad to find you here.” As Will spoke, he ran over to the other man and embraced him.

A smile spread from the corner of Hannibal’s lips across his whole face. “And where else would I be?” he asked.

Will moved away slightly to look Hannibal in the eyes. One hand was on Hannibal’s shoulder, and the other was just touching Hannibal’s clavicle. “We got called to the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra because their second trombonist was murdered. And not just murdered, this guy was mutilated, a cello fretboard shoved down his mouth and into his throat. His vocal cords were exposed as if he were going to be played.”

“Were his vocal cords treated?”

“Yes, actually.”

“And you say he played second trombone? You’re referring to Mr. Jacobitz, correct?” _Leave it to Hannibal to know the orchestra members’ names by heart._

Will let his hands drop down to his side while Hannibal stood in front of Will in just a towel, comfortable enough in his own skin not to care that he was nearly naked. “Uh, yeah.” Will suddenly became aware that he his hands had been on Hannibal’s chest when Lecter had been in just a towel.

“Well,” Hannibal smirked, “given Jacobitz’s horrible lack of tone and timing, our mystery murderer actually did the orchestra and its audience a favor.”

“That’s what the board chair, Resin, said too, oddly enough. In fact, he thought that you might know the killer.”

“And why is that?” Hannibal’s head inclined slightly.

“Because you go to the symphony quite often, apparently. That reminds me, I’ve got tickets for two to their next opera.”

“For us?”

“Well, I know that you love opera, and after mentioning that I liked Wagner, Resin offered me tickets. Who else would I take?”

Hannibal grabbed at the towel; it was starting to shift off his hips. “Surely, you know someone else who appreciates opera.”

“ _But no one like you_.”

“True,” Hannibal conceded. He felt goosebumps breaking out on his skin. “However, if you’ll step aside, I should go into my bedroom and change so that I don’t catch cold. Feel free to make yourself comfortable downstairs and I’ll be right with you.”

Will became self-conscious. “Yeah, I’ll go downstairs. And, I, um, broke your window to get in, so I should probably go clean that up.”

“I’d wondered how you got in.”

“I was worried about you. I panicked. What if the killer found you and was trying to kill you?”

“Well, then I would have just had to endeavor to kill him first. Now, give me just a few minutes and I’ll be right down.”

Will did as he was told, going into Hannibal’s kitchen to look for a broom and dustpan. He came across a small hand broom with pan in the cupboard under Hannibal’s sink and began cleaning up the mess he’d made earlier. Hannibal came down sooner than expected and Will took his eyes off of what he was doing. “Ouch!” His hand shot up, dropping the dustpan to the floor, undoing all of his work. Instead of focusing on the shards of glass, Will’s attention had turned to Hannibal and now he was injured, a shard of glass imbedded in his first finger.

“Did you cut yourself? Hannibal asked, fully aware of such as he could smell a slight tinge of iron in the air as he approached.

“Yeah, and I made a mess, again.” Will’s brow furrowed as he tried to locate the offending piece of glass in his fingertip.

Hannibal bent down and grabbed Will’s hand. “Not to worry. As you know, I was once an adequate, if not talented, surgeon. Come with me and I’ll get it out in a snap.”

Will rose with Hannibal, who led him to a small half bath. Hannibal opened the medicine cabinet and deftly plucked out a pair of tweezers. “Now, this may sting, but we absolutely cannot leave that glass in there to fester.” Hannibal expertly plucked the small piece of glass from Will’s finger and smiled at his success. Will surprised him by wrestling his hand away so that he could pop his finger into his mouth and suck on his wound like an injured animal. “Surely, you realize that’s wholly unsanitary and unacceptable to me. Now, bring it back so that I can clean it properly.” Will sheepishly did as he was told while Hannibal regarded him with the raised eyebrows of an expectant parent waiting for a child to do what is proper. Once more, Hannibal reached into his cabinet for a bandage and a surgical cleanser and disinfectant. After cleaning Will’s hand and gently wiping it dry, Hannibal applied antibiotic ointment and a bandage to Will’s finger. “There is pain reliever in that which should kick in any moment.”

“Thank you, and I’m sorry again for making such a mess… twice.”

Hannibal kept Will’s hand in his as he replied. “Nonsense. You came to me out of fidelity and concern for my well-being, how could I possibly be upset at that?”

Will looked down at his hand, still in Hannibal’s grasp. No doubt Hannibal always gave his surgical patients exemplary care, but his attentiveness to Will’s hand seemed… _extra_. Will looked up at Hannibal and returned his soft smile. “Everyone should have a friend like you.”

Hannibal wanted to take his free hand and cup Will’s chin as he met his lips to Will’s, but he resisted. “I think it’s best that you let me clean up the rest of the glass.”

Will backed up imperceptibly as he pulled his hand back from Hannibal’s grasp. “And you should let me know how much it is to replace that glass. After all,” his cheeks reddened, “hindsight being 20/20, I may have overreacted slightly.”

“Nonsense. You’ll do nothing of the sort. However, if you’d like, you could stop by again sometime soon with another bottle of wine like that bottle you brought the other night.”

Will grinned. “I can definitely do that.”

“And I will provide dinner.”

“But I may have to bring a set of pajamas if you ply me with as much liquor as you did the other night.” Hannibal wanted to tell Will that he could sleep nude (as he often did), but he demurred.

“I’m certain that I have something you can borrow, if you’d like.”

Will looked down, amused by himself. “To be honest, I normally just sleep in a plain, white Hanes t-shirt and a pair of jockey shorts.” 

The grin on Hannibal’s face grew. “You’ve graduated from the boxers you wore with your ex-girlfriend, it would appear.” Hannibal kept his eyes on Will, amused when Graham shook his head, laughing to himself. “Just tell me when you’d like to come for dinner again so that I can prepare a proper menu for you.”

“Let me figure out this trombonist case first. Speaking of which, can we go sit down and discuss it a bit? I’d love to pick your brain on this one. I know that you’re technically a string player, too, with your harpsichord.”

Will told Hannibal everything he ascertained from the crime scene and again expressed concern for Lecter’s safety. “I assure you, between my own capacities and you as my guard dog, I believe that I’ll be quite safe,” Hannibal assured Will.

“And you’ll tell me if anyone comes to mind?”

“Of course. I promise, and I _always_ keep my promises.”


	8. A Promise Kept

While the FBI was busy tracking down leads, Hannibal’s lead walked right into his office. It was his neurotic, clingy patient, Franklyn Froideveaux. Lecter was his tenth psychiatrist, and he was about to refer him to an eleventh therapist. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me! **_You_** were a referral, from a referral, from a referral…. You’re my tenth doctor! What is it with me, am I too pathetic? Do I bore you?”

“I would never say that you bore me, Franklyn; each of my patients is unique. However, you seem to have an – ” Lecter paused, “ _unnatural_ interest in my personal life. I find that it is generally unwise to mix personal and professional relationships. That is why I wouldn’t acknowledge you right away at the BSO fundraiser. That is why, despite noticing your car in the parking lot, I did not stay to greet you after buying supplies for my last dinner party. My personal life is my own and should be respected. I share it how I see fit with whom I feel the desire to share it.” Lecter’s voice hardened with his last two sentences.

Froideveaux put his head in his hands and started to sniffle as large tears fell onto his corduroy trousers. He looked up at Lecter pathetically. “I just thought that since you and I had so much in common and since we seem to get along so well that we could be fr… fr… _friends_.”

Lecter extended a box of Kleenex toward his patient. “I’m afraid not. I fear that our familiarity has been stalling your progress, and I do desire to see you get better, Franklyn.”

“But how will you see my progress if you dump me like some… bad blind date?”

Lecter smiled politely, slightly leaning back in his chair. “Perhaps one day I will see you out and about. A year from now, should I see you at the opera, I would take a moment to greet you and inquire as to your general state of being.”

Franklyn scoffed and shook his head. “‘You’d take a moment?’ Am I worth so little of your time that I have to pay you for anything more than a moment?”

“Not at all. On the contrary, I want what is best for you. I sincerely believe that a more skilled mental health professional can help you reach your goals, and that is why I am referring you.” Lecter held out a slip of paper on which he had written not one but two names. 

Franklyn reached out to grab at the paper, grabbing Lecter’s hand in the process. Lecter pulled away immediately. “I believe you should leave now.”

“You know, Tobias said this was coming. He said that you were icy to me at the fundraiser in a manner that was altogether uncalled for.”

“Then perhaps Tobias should become your next therapist. Unfortunately, I’m not aware of Mr. Budge having any degree or license of that sort. Am I mistaken?”

“You’re not,” Franklyn retorted. “I thought I already told you several times that he owns a music shop in the city – why would he be a therapist?”

Lecter’s eyes narrowed. “That’s right, you had mentioned that. What sort of music shop was it again?”

“It’s Chordophone String Shop, why?”

“He owns a string shop? And does he attend the BSO often?” Lecter asked.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it! You’re more interested in my friend you met once than you are in me! Am I _that_ much of a bore?”

Lecter wanted to admit that yes, Franklyn _was_ that much of a bore, but he was more concerned for his well-being at the moment. “Franklyn, listen to me closely: Have you read the news lately?”

“Yes, what about?”

“About the dead trombonist?”

“Well, of course I’ve heard of it. Who – especially in _our_ patron circle – hasn’t?” Upon seeing Lecter’s serious expression, Franklyn leaned in closer. “Oh my god, you… you don’t think that Tobias had anything to do with it, do you? I mean, he knows all about how to treat strings. He insists on stocking cat gut for his clientele. At least, he _calls_ it cat gut. It’s definitely organic material, not synthetic!”

Lecter thought quickly. “Franklyn, listen to me – I still think that ultimately it would be best if you could find a therapist whom you couldn’t consider a friend. However, for the time being, I need you to call me immediately if Tobias says anything to you or acts in a way that makes you suspicious that he could be involved in that murder. The FBI is looking into it and I am… an occasional consultant. I would never forgive myself if I put you in the path of danger, so please be cautious and, should you notice anything that might link Mr. Budge with that ongoing investigation, please promise that you’ll call me.”

Froideveaux’s eyes lit up. “I promise! If you want, I could take down your cell number.” _Franklyn always went a step too far. Always._

“No, that is not necessary.”

“But what if I hear about something over the weekend?”

“Then you can call my office and leave a message. You’ve known for some time now that I frequently check my office messages in case of an emergency.” It was true, for the last month and a half, sensing that Lecter might be ready to toss him off to someone else, Franklyn had found reasons to call at 10 or 11 o’clock on a Friday or Saturday night in what was a thinly veiled attempt to both grab Lecter’s attention and curb his own loneliness.

“I suppose if you think you’ll get it in time.”

“You cannot unring a bell, Franklyn. If another murder occurs, we cannot prevent such, we can only hope to prevent another.”

“Stop the bell from ringing next time,” Franklyn nodded in understanding, “I like it.”

“I hope that I am mistaken, but I still want you to be careful, Franklyn. If you feel that you are in danger, you must call the authorities _before_ you call me. I can’t save you, but my tax dollars can help provide you protection.”

“Thank you, Dr. Lecter.” Franklyn knew that his hour was up. He stood and stretched out his hand to shake Lecter’s, assuaged from the fear that he would have to find a new therapist quite so soon. In fact, if Tobias was in some way involved in the murder of that trombonist, then Dr. Lecter would certainly want to help him process his feelings over his best friend, at the very least….

~~~

It wouldn’t take until the weekend for Tobias to make murderous overtures towards Franklyn. Franklyn had invited Tobias over for dinner on Wednesday. “You know that I’ve been busy lately, so I was wondering what couldn’t wait.” Tobias sounded irritated. He almost always sounded irritated with Franklyn nowadays, especially when Franklyn referred to him as anything other than a friend.

“Well, you know how I went to see Hannibal the other day, and Hannibal said – ”

“Jesus, what is it now? We can’t go one night without you bringing up your psychiatrist? I’m beginning to think that you’ve got a thing for him!” Tobias exclaimed.

“Actually, it’s Hannibal I need to talk to you about, Tobias. I told him about your shop.” In keeping with his usual histrionics, Franklyn was pulling his head into his shoulders.

“So, you told him that I run a music shop,” Tobias echoed with irritation.

“And Hannibal knows the FBI, and he says they’re working on the death of that trombonist.”

“So?”

“Tobias, buddy, I think you might have a secret you need to get out. And I can help you. You know I’ve always told you that I won’t desert you, no matter what. You know that you’ll never need to worry about being alone again.”

“But I like being alone.”

“Not in prison.”

Tobias’ eyebrows rose. “And why would I spend time there?”

“Because I told Hannibal about your shop, and the FBI is on the hunt. Tobias, you talk in your sleep.”

Budge’s cheeks reddened slightly. He knew finally relenting to Franklyn’s incessant whining about how he wanted to be more than just friends would cause him more grief than his large cock was worth. Not even the cock and staying power of 1970s Ron Jeremy would be worth putting up with Franklyn’s neurotic ways. “So, instead of talking to me first, you decided to tell your psychiatrist? You know what’s going to happen now, right?” Tobias’ voice took on a hardened edge.

“So… you _did_ do it.”

Tobias barked in laughter. “Of course I did it, Franklyn! For Christ’s sake, you’re not the only one who wants to get into your psychiatrist’s pants! The man is cultured, sophisticated, and you know as well as I do that Charles Jacobitz couldn’t find a pitch to save his soul. And you know that Lecter knew. How could I get his attention without directly using you?”

“Wait,” Franklyn began, sounding both stunned and wounded, “so you only slept with me to get to Lecter, after all we’ve been through?”

“Your constant prattling on about him annoyed me at first until I realized that he was as brilliant and insightful as you said. And then meeting him at that fundraiser the other night – I don’t know how you can ever stand up after your sessions if he normally looks like that! I wanted him to bend me over right in the middle of the crowd. How do you stand it? Truly, I want to know!”

Franklyn felt yet another flash of betrayal just as he had with all of the times he was referred to a new therapist. “He’s sent me packing.”

Tobias smiled. “Maybe I should take your place on his couch. I’m sure that I’m much more his type.”

Without warning, Franklyn was on the other man, shaking him by the lapels. “Shut up, Tobias! Just shut the hell up! The world doesn’t exist solely to please you!”

“That’s for sure,” Tobias croaked out. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had to kill that man.”

Franklyn wanted to punch Tobias. He wanted to shake Tobias, shouting and ranting until the other man was crying and begging for his mercy. Unfortunately, Franklyn was a coward – he was not a man that could intimidate others, and Tobias had always had a dangerous mystique about him.

“Tobias… we need to go to the police. We need to turn you in. Yes, you’ll go to prison, but I’ll be here, writing to you, loving you, just like I have since I first saw your smile.”

Budge thought quickly. “You’re right. I do need to turn myself in, but will you really wait for me?” Realizing that by being honest, he’d hurt his ability to manipulate Franklyn, Tobias knew he had to quickly repair their relationship. “And you know I only said those things about wanting Lecter because I was jealous of your attention.”

Franklyn let go of Tobias’ collar as one hand reached up to touch Tobias’ check gently. “Of course I will.”

“Well then, give me one more night with you. One more time to feel you inside of me before we wake up tomorrow and I go confess my sins.” Tobias knew that speaking in dramatic overtones always melted Franklyn. Besides, he had no intention of going to prison, but he couldn’t resist Franklyn’s cock. It truly was the best thing about his fuck buddy.

Tobias was surprised at Franklyn’s tone when he spoke up. “Tobias, I don’t think – ”

“If you love me like you say you do, you’ll do it. Besides, I’m sure there’s no one at the local FBI office available right now anyhow. What’s the harm of allowing us one more night of passion together?”

Franklyn smiled hesitantly. “Well, I suppose you’re right. Who knows the next time we’ll be together?”

“Wonderful!” Tobias started undoing the buttons of his shirt before letting his lips find Franklyn’s. He led Franklyn to the bedroom before undressing the man and allowing a hand to manipulate Franklyn’s penis. Pushing Franklyn onto the bed, Tobias bent down to take Franklyn’s massive, amazing cock into his mouth while massaging his prostate. _This cock would be the only thing about Franklyn that Tobias would miss_. 

Within mere moments, Franklyn’s cock was wet and ready to enter Tobias. Sure, he’d probably get sodomized plenty in prison, but he didn’t plan on going. He would tire Franklyn out, get a good night’s sleep, and then wake up and go kill Lecter before coming back and finishing Franklyn. The man was an amazing lover, but there was no way he’d do 20 to life for him. As Franklyn worked his cock into Tobias, Tobias screamed. In fact, knowing that it’d do Franklyn’s ego some good and ensure that he’d fill his commissary funds for awhile should he get caught after all, Tobias even called out Franklyn’s name. It made Franklyn feel like a king for the first time in his life.

~~~

One of the side effects of Franklyn Froideveaux’s depression and anxiety medications were that both caused him to fall into a deep sleep whereas killers like Tobias Budge and Hannibal Lecter slept lightly. Budge was easily able to rise before his lover and make his way over to Lecter’s office. If he timed this all right, he could be on a jet out of the country by noon.

Tobias Budge sat in Hannibal Lecter’s waiting room, listening to Lecter talk to a patient. It would be best for him to leave and come back after the patient had left, but Tobias was working on a strict schedule if he wanted to kill Lecter and get back before Franklyn awoke. Tobias heard Lecter rise as if he was escorting his patient to the door, so he hid his face in a magazine. Classical Music Monthly, how appropriate! After Lecter’s eight o’clock patient left, the psychiatrist addressed him. “Hello, may I help you?”

Budge stood up and started to approach Lecter, and something on Budge’s face caused Lecter to walk backwards into his office. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I had hoped to get to know you more… _intimately_ , but you’ve made it so now I’ve got to kill you and Franklyn instead.”

“Don’t kill Franklyn.” Lecter’s lack of enthusiasm was rather amusing, all things considered. No one truly seemed to think highly of Franklyn.

“If you were interested, we could kill Franklyn together. Then only one of you would have to die.”

“I’m not interested in you.”

Budge frowned. **Fuck it, then.**


	9. A Dance Amongst Killers

Franklyn woke up Thursday morning around 9:30 AM as it was his flex day at work. He was scheduled to work from noon to four, but if things ran long down at the Baltimore PD, he might just take the whole day off. He had plenty of personal leave saved up and was already two months ahead of schedule with his work, so what would his boss care?

Franklyn leaned over to place a hand on Tobias’ chest but instead found a cool, empty spot on the bed. “Dammit, Tobias,” he sighed. He found his cell on his nightstand and called Tobias, but the call was immediately sent to voicemail. Tobias had glanced briefly at his phone while talking to Lecter, smirked, and hit the DECLINE option. Undeterred, Franklyn tried Lecter’s office line.

“I’ll bet his life that it’s Franklyn,” Tobias smirked. 

Lecter picked up his phone. Hello? Yes, he is here. Franklyn, Franklyn, listen to me, it is not safe for you to come here. No. No, you can’t. Stay home, Franklyn. I can handle this myself. Yes, call them right away. Goodbye, Franklyn.”

“I was right!”

“Indeed, you were. However, while I appreciate your devotion to the orchestra, there were less obvious ways to assist it without your actions coming back to you. Franklyn figured it out easily enough. For you to get caught by such a fool, surely you were hasty.”

Tobias grinned broadly, flashing his white teeth. “I did it that way to get your attention.”

“How were you certain that Franklyn would tell me?”

“Because if he talked about me half as much as he talked about you, there was no way that it wouldn’t be mentioned,” Tobias explained.

Lecter shook his head. “Poor Franklyn. He has never been comfortable in his own skin.”

~~~

**_This was it!_** For the first time in his pathetic life, Franklyn Froideveaux was going to stand up, be brave, and be the hero of the hour! Instead of listening to Lecter’s warnings, he quickly dressed and jumped into his Cadillac to race over to Lecter’s office. Surely, Lecter would be appreciative if – no, **_when_** – Franklyn saved him. Franklyn had a moment of clarity and decided to ask Siri to call the Baltimore FBI field office. He gave his name, name-dropped Lecter’s name as his psychiatrist and an FBI consultant, and stated that his best friend was the BSO killer and likely about to kill Lecter.

Franklyn was surprised how long it took to get someone to take down the details he had provided, but eventually the operator thanked him for his call before promising to send a team out. The operator mentioned that he would also contact the Baltimore PD, although Franklyn replied that he would call them next. If the operator had realized that Franklyn had just arrived at Lecter’s office, she would have urged Franklyn to stay away. Alas, it was time for a reckoning. A reckoning between him and Tobias. A reckoning between him and Lecter. The FBI would probably give Franklyn some sort of civilian honor for this – probably a medal or a certificate that he could frame and put up on his wall at work. That would be a definite conversation starter!

Franklyn walked up the stairs to Dr. Lecter’s office, and he could hear his psychiatrist’s voice. “Don’t kill Franklyn.” Franklyn’s heart fell – Lecter was surely talking to Tobias. Tobias had acted like he cared for him, but perhaps he was just using him after all, just like Nathan had, and just like Jonathan had. Franklyn took a deep breath and squared his shoulders as he walked into the office unannounced. Both men looked at him. “Franklyn, what are you doing here? I told you to stay safe,” Lecter remarked.

“I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

“And what about me?” Tobias snapped.

“Tobias, you’ve done wrong. You’ve got to atone for your sins.”

“Fuck that shit. You’re such a fucking loser, I should have killed you months ago!”

Hannibal watched the two men verbally spar, not hiding the amusement on his face. By this time, Franklyn had stepped between the two men. “Don’t kill Franklyn,” Lecter repeated again.

Franklyn looked at Lecter and smiled in gratitude before turning towards Tobias. “Tobias, after all we’ve shared. I told you that I’ll still be here for you even when you’re imprisoned.”

“ _I’m not going to prison_ ,” Budge snarled.

“But you have to, you’ve killed a man.”

“I’ve killed many more than one, and I bet I’m not the only one here who has – ” Tobias stopped mid-sentence as Lecter deftly reached, grabbed Franklyn’s neck, and snapped it loose so that the still warm bag of bones that was previously Franklyn Leonard Froideveaux collapsed onto the floor between them. Tobias looked down, frowning. “I was really looking forward to killing him.”

“And now I’ve saved you the effort.”

“But I’ll still have to kill you.”

“The FBI, and undoubtedly, the Baltimore PD are en route as we speak. Perhaps you could just save us both a lot of effort and leave while you still can.”

“I could, but you know my secret.”

“Indeed.” Lecter inclined his head and smiled.

“Of course, what you’ve no clue is that after I saw what Franklyn saw in you, I became intrigued and started following you after you left your office at night. I saw what you did in that bus. What you did **so** very well. And that’s when I realized that you and I were alike and that I could use a friend like you, someone who could actually understand me.” Tobias saw the silent panic in Lecter’s eyes when he mentioned the school bus. Lecter could try to deny it, but they both knew the truth.

“The FBI will be here any minute now.”

“So, that’s how it’s going to be?” Tobias asked.

“I don’t need your friendship, nor would I ever desire such.”

The forceful rejection caused Tobias Budge to act without thinking for one of the first times in his calculated life. He lunged toward Lecter, his hands finding themselves just above Lecter’s collarbone – a perfect position for strangling someone.

Despite being surprised, Lecter wasn’t completely taken off guard. Once again, his natural instincts were contrary to most men’s – most men would feel panic upon finding themselves in Lecter’s current position. Instead, Lecter reached into his pocket, slid the cap off of his fountain pen, and plunged it into Budge’s neck. Unfortunately, it missed Budge’s jugular. Regardless, Tobias cried out in pain, one hand reaching up instinctively, allowing Lecter to break the grip on his neck. Lecter kicked Tobias backward, into his office door, but the injured man was back on his feet quickly, enraged as a grizzly upon finding an angry beehive.

Tobias pulled out a length of piano wire from his front pocket. A madness gripping him, he sneered menacingly as he unrolled the string length and started spinning it in circles. He approached Hannibal, and struck out with the cord to assert his dominance, causing a bloody lash across Lecter’s hand. “You should have let me kill Franklyn!”

“He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But he annoyed the hell out of me.”

“Me too, that’s why I killed him.” If the two men were friends, Tobias would have laughed. Instead, he shook his head in anger and disappointment. 

“But I put up with him longer. So much longer. So much whining!” Budge slashed at Lecter. The cord stung Lecter’s left cheek slightly before wrapping around the wrist of his sleeve.

Hannibal thought quickly as he grabbed his entrapped wrist to brace it and prevent it from being pulled into Tobias. The men struggled against each other. Hannibal gained the upper hand as he pulled Tobias toward him, headbutting Tobias, causing his attacker’s grasp on the cord to falter. He untangled his sleeve and kicked the cord away as he approached Tobias. 

When being attacked, Hannibal usually waited until he was approached to strike. He watched Tobias right himself and put his fists up. Tobias swung as Hannibal approached, but Hannibal dodged aside artfully and landed a blow to Tobias’ side, along the bottom of his ribs. Budge moved as if he were dancing with Lecter – no sooner had Lecter hit him than he swung around and landed a blow directly into Lecter’s gut. Hannibal hunched over, not expecting the punch. This gave Budge time to connect his fist with Lecter’s cheekbone, causing the doctor to fall backwards. Budge straddled Lecter as he began alternating his fists, punching Lecter’s face and stomach. When Hannibal raised his arms to block, those were also hit.

Hannibal remembered his training from his youth and bucked his hips to take Budge off guard as he let his right leg swing in front of him to knock Tobias aside, onto the ground. Hannibal rose to his feet and smiled – he had a plan. He started stepping backwards towards his library ladder. This gave Tobias a moment to rise to his feet. 

Tobias charged at Lecter and pushed him against a wall before aiming for Lecter’s mouth with his fist, but the other man’s head moved aside and Tobias felt teeth clamp onto his hand. He let out a cry, and Lecter let go, spinning around before starting to inch backwards again. Tobias Budge knew that he had to finish Lecter quickly – he was much too dangerous and the authorities would arrive any minute now. 

Tobias swung one of his strong arms out, but Lecter ducked aside and let his ladder sail on its wheels left, toward him. Tobias sent the ladder sailing back, closing the gap between them. Lecter popped his head from over the side of the ladder, baiting Budge. Another swing and miss, but Lecter was moving towards the other side of the wooden implement. Tobias took a calculated risk, striking out from between the rungs of the ladder. He smiled as he felt his fist connect, but his celebration lasted only a moment before colors exploded into his vision as his body tensed in agony. 

Tobias’ pain was accompanied by a sick feeling – he’d heard bone and cartilage snap. Normally, Budge had no issue breaking bones – he had no sympathy for his fellow man, most of whom he abhorred. However, Tobias Budge was an artisan, an artisan who used his hands to expertly craft his wares on a daily basis. And this wasn’t a mere broken arm, this was extreme and utter pain!

Tobias continued after Hannibal, determined to exact revenge for Lecter’s brutality. He swung his unscathed arm towards Lecter, but Lecter quickly hit Budge’s throat with precision to crush his trachea, leaving Tobias limping, wheezing, holding one arm while gasping for air, his eyes wide.

Hannibal grabbed his bronze stag statue based off the painting, “Stag at Bay”, and brought it down upon the back of Tobias’ head, where his skull and neck met. The man collapsed to the floor, blood starting to spread from his body. Hannibal let the statue fall with Budge, and gently, taking care not to leave any fresh fingerprints, knocked over the small accent table that had held the statue. To whomever would arrive next, it would make sense when Lecter explained that Tobias had lunged for him, and he tried to move backwards. While he landed a blow to Budge, his attacker couldn’t slow his charge and the hit caused him to fall over. Lecter would recount that his leg was snagged on the table’s leg, causing the statue to fall upon Budge from behind, killing him and saving Lecter’s life in the process.

Exhausted from the unexpected physical exertion, especially as it involved killing two men without any plan of his own, Hannibal held his head as he made his way over to his desk. He sat and grabbed his office phone, about to call in the incident himself as Jack Crawford, Will Graham, and six other FBI and Baltimore PD officers stormed through the door. He smiled weakly, blood visible on his busted lip. “I hadn’t even had a chance to call yet,” he croaked weakly.

“We got a call from a man who said he’s your client, a Franklyn Froideveaux,” Jack Crawford explained.

“ _Former_ patient,” Lecter responded, pointing towards the body closest to his office door. “I was going to end our professional relationship anyhow, but then Mr. Budge – ” Lecter paused for just a moment, “ended it for me.”

Jack stared hard at Lecter. “And exactly how did you get involved in all of this in the first place, Doctor?” 

“Franklyn had mentioned that his friend, Tobias Budge, owned a local string shop. I knew about the murder, as did Franklyn. I told Franklyn to call the authorities if he had any concrete clues that Budge had actually killed that trombonist.”

“And I told Hannibal what I knew when we were called to the orchestra to view the body,” Will offered, walking up and leaning against Lecter’s desk, his left foot mere inches away from Lecter’s sitting form.

“Yes, I recall that,” Jack replied dryly. 

“And I appreciated your concern.” Hannibal looked directly at Will as if there was no one else in the room. He noticed that Will returned his gaze. “In fact, if not for Will’s warning, I may have been caught completely unaware.”

Jack tilted his head at Lecter’s last comment. “And how did you know who Tobias Budge was before he showed up here seemingly unannounced?”

“I had met him at a recent orchestra benefit. He was attending with Franklyn, and in his fervor, Franklyn approached me afterwards to say hello and introduce me to his friend.”

“And you didn’t know him before that?”

“Only insomuch as I heard Franklyn discuss him at nearly all of our sessions, Jack. Personally, I had wondered if Franklyn didn’t desire Tobias sexually.”

“And?”

“The men had recently embarked on a sexual relationship. Thankfully, although I’d planned on transferring Franklyn to a new therapist, he cared about me enough to confide in me. If not for Franklyn,” Hannibal paused, returning his gaze to Will, a hand touching the space of desk between them, “and my friend, Will, Mr. Budge may have had a much larger upper hand when he arrived at my office to kill me.”

“And why you?” Jack continued with his questioning.

“Because Franklyn told him that we’d discussed the BSO killing, that he suspected Tobias of the murder, and that he’d told me. In fact, Franklyn had thought that he’d convinced Mr. Budge to turn himself in this morning. However, after he barged into my office, Budge told me that he refused to be captured, that he planned on killing me and then Franklyn, the only two people who knew what he had done. And, in at least two-thirds of his efforts, Mr. Budge had succeeded.”

“Two-thirds? Why two-thirds?”

“Because he killed Franklyn, and he was not taken into custody, at least not alive. I’m sorry to ask you this, Jack, but as you can imagine, this has been quite traumatic for me, as it would be for anyone. If you could get the bodies out of my office, then I could call a cleaning crew and cancel my appointments for a week or two.”

“Understandable, Dr. Lecter. As we both know, Will is the most comfortable of us all in dealing with this sort of thing, and even he occasionally has issues.” The last three words left Jack’s mouth sounding different than those that came before them. They almost sounded, not accusatory, not sympathetic, but… _different_. “Unfortunately, in these situations, we suggest that victims stay with a friend or relative to ensure that the attacker hasn’t enlisted a cohort to finish his work.”

“You can stay with me,” Will offered immediately, his fingers reaching out towards Lecter’s hand. Mere millimeters separated the men’s hands from touching.

“Will’s place, a hotel, wherever. Just take a bit of extra precaution. Meanwhile, I’ve got to contact Mr. Resin at the BSO and let him know that the rest of his orchestra should be safe but that we’re still tying up loose ends. Will, take the rest of the day to watch over Dr. Lecter. I’ll see you when you can make it in tomorrow.” Jack turned away from Lecter and Graham and began ordering his men and the Baltimore PD around on what to do next, his attention seemingly elsewhere.

“Looks like they won’t have to wait long to begin working on their next opera. And remember, I’ve got two tickets if you’re still interested,” Will remarked.

“But of course I am,” Hannibal replied. “Where would I be right now without you?”

Will smiled at Hannibal before reaching up to wipe the blood off of Hannibal’s lip. Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand. “It really looks like he did a job on you.”

“I am thankful that it isn’t worse. I’ll undoubtedly heal physically in a few days.”

Will moved slightly closer to Lecter’s chair as he leaned his bottom against the solid oak desk. He shook his head, grinning lopsidedly. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if you’d been….”

Hannibal let his hand rest upon Will’s. “You need not concern yourself with those thoughts. I’m still here, right beside you. It will take more than an enraged serial killer to take me away from you.”

“Good,” Will looked away shyly, “because I don’t have many friends.”

“You are the only friend I need.”

“‘Friend’ – singular? Surely, you’ve got more than just me?”

“I’ve got scores of acquaintances, yes, but you are the only one I consider a true friend. You are the only one that I need, Will.” 

Will smiled in response. 


	10. After the Attack

Despite Jack’s odd interrogation, his people left Hannibal’s office sooner than if he had been a mere civilian doctor without any FBI ties. After the bodies were removed and Lecter had assured medics that he was not in need of their services, he was left alone with Will. “I was… _really_ worried about you,” Will admitted.

“I know.”

“And I meant what I said to Jack – I want you to come stay with me. Well, with me and the dogs. I know you’d probably hate what passes for cooking at my place, but maybe we could turn it into my first round of cooking lessons.”

Hannibal smiled. “I don’t want to put you out. I could always rent a suite at the Sagamore Pendry. It’s only three miles away from the American Visionary Art Museum, and while I gravitate more towards Old World masters like Botticelli, I occasionally like to broaden my cultural horizons.”

“You don’t like dogs? I thought you liked my dogs.” Will sounded confused and hurt. He pulled his hand out from under Hannibal’s, shifting his weight to his right buttock to edge away from the man in the chair.

Hannibal rose and stopped slightly to his left so that he was directly in front of Will. He took a step and a half forward until his legs were just in between Will’s parted legs. He looked down, letting a hand raise Will’s chin up to look at him. “After all that you have done for me, Will, how could I not view your dogs as an extension of you? Of course I enjoy the company of your dogs, but I also do not want to be underfoot. Absence makes the heart grow founder, whereas familiarity breeds contempt. I got the impression from Jack that I should stay away from my own home for at least a week. Would having me for so long bother you?”

Without realizing it, Will had moved so that Hannibal’s palm slightly caressed his cheek. “No, I think I could handle that. And the dogs would appreciate someone else to cuddle up with, if you’re game, that is.”

Hannibal smiled and blinked before admitting, “it’s been too long since I’ve had anyone with whom to cuddle.”

“Well then, it’s settled. Let’s go to your house so you can grab some clothes and whatever else you might need before I take you over to my place.”

“Should I just follow you in my car?” Hannibal asked.

“No – I have to drive into Baltimore to go to work anyhow, so we might as well save on gas and drive in together. We can consider it our own way to help save the environment for future generations, although I doubt either of us will ever have kids.”

Hannibal laughed as he stepped back and held out a hand to help Will to his feet. “I am much too… set in my ways to entertain raising a child at this point in my life.”

“Set in your ways? That doesn’t sound very healthy psychologically, Doctor. Not that I can talk though, I collect strays.”

“Indeed. You’ve collected me. I have no family living.”

Will let a hand reach out to touch Hannibal’s arm sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that. Truth be told, I don’t have much in the way of family, either. I’ve got an aunt and uncle, my dad’s sister and her husband, and they send me packages and cards on my birthday and Christmas, but I think that’s more out of a sense of respect and loyalty to my dad. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, especially since my dad’s been dead for about 20 years now. And I’ve got enough aftershave to last me a decade, at least. Anyhow, let’s get going. You must be exhausted and I’ve got a feeling that you won’t be leaving with just one suitcase.”

Hannibal switched his voicemail on and dimmed his office lights before exiting and locking his office doors. Thankfully, both Franklyn and Tobias had died atop of area rugs. The rugs were both out of fashion, so this gave Hannibal an excuse to go shopping sometime soon. “Where is your car, Will?”

Will thought for a moment before replying sheepishly. “I, um… forgot that Jack drove me over here, and so did he, apparently. If you drive me back to the office, I could pick up my car and meet you at your house. I’d want you to wait outside until I arrived to keep watch over you, of course. I mean, I don’t think that Budge was working in concert with anyone else except for maybe your patient, but we can’t be too careful.”

“Franklyn was not helping Tobias kill. He never told me as such one way or the other, but I knew my patient well enough that I would bet my life on it.” Of course, he pretty much _had_ staked his life on the innate goodness of Franklyn Froideveaux’s heart. “Why don’t we just take my Bentley? I’ve yet to take a trip within the continental U.S. that my SUV couldn’t handle.” 

Will noticed that most people still talked about others in the present tense when learning about a sudden death, but not Hannibal. Perhaps it was because he was a surgeon who had to deal with death as part of his livelihood….

~~~

Soon enough, the men arrived at Hannibal’s house, where Will insisted on entering first to ensure that no one was hiding to sabotage Lecter. “Just promise me that you won’t break any more of my windows, please,” Hannibal remarked with a dry humor before Will entered his home.

“I told you I’d pay for it.”

“And I insisted that you shouldn’t.”

“I’d only done that because I was afraid that you’d already been attacked.”

“It was as if you could see into the future, you were merely mistaken about the time and location,” Hannibal reflected.

“Ha… yeah. That’s another special talent that’s more trouble than it’s worth sometimes.”

“Can you see the future, Will?”

“I… have dreams. Get feelings. I wake up in a cold sweat a lot, and if it’s not due to a case, it’s normally due to a dream, but it’s hard to know what the dream means usually.”

“It is often difficult to find meaning in that which initially appears meaningless without context. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go upstairs, take a quick shower to wash this blood off of me, and prepare some necessities.”

“Shouldn’t I come with you?”

“Into my shower or into my bedroom?”

Will remembered how he had barged in and caught Hannibal in just a towel right as he had been exiting his bathroom. “I… just try not to take too long, and if anything seems amiss, shout down to me and I’ll come right up.”

“I promise.”

~~~

Seeing Hannibal descend the stairs carrying two suitcases and a toiletry bag, Will was certain that Hannibal was sufficiently packed. “But what about my supplies, Will? You honestly don’t expect me to teach you how to cook with whatever rusty filet knife you keep around, do you? Let me just grab my knife block, a juicer, spices, and a few pans and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Do you use cast iron?” Will asked.

“Oftentimes, yes.”

“Then there’s no need to pack those. I may not use them often, but I have a full complement of really good cast iron. I even have a Dutch oven.”

Hannibal inclined his head. “You never cease to amaze me. I would still be remiss without my spices though.”

Will brainstormed quickly. “Why don’t you grab only what’s necessary and we can make my first cooking lesson a shopping lesson? We can go out and get some groceries and you can teach me what sort of spices I should keep around.”

Hannibal considered Will’s suggestion. “We would have to drive to a few different shops in Baltimore, but perhaps we could do that tomorrow, after work? On our way to Wolf Trap, we could stop and pick up provisions for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow.”

“There’s a deli in Vienna called ‘The Italian Gourmet’. It has plenty of shrimp, wine, and cheese. It always reminds me of you, so maybe it’ll work, just for tonight.”

Hannibal smiled. “That sounds perfect. Now, if you’d be kind enough to take my suitcases, I can throw a few items in an empty wine box and we can get on our way.” Hannibal often bought wine by the case, and he didn’t believe in throwing away that which could be reused. He removed the bottle dividers from a wine box and started packing various items into it.

Remembering his herbs, Hannibal quickly grabbed a natural sponge from under his sink and cut it into several small squares, putting the squares in a large bowl he filled with water. He placed the wet bits of sponge in the herb pots he kept in his dining room so that he wouldn’t worry about his basil and coriander drying out while he was gone.

After Hannibal’s car was packed and his house was locked up, the men got into his car. “Would you mind if I put on some music? After stressful times, I like to listen to music to relax.”

“No, not at all,” Will replied.

Hannibal looked over at Will and smiled. “Since you’ve become a recent opera fan, I’ve got just the thing. I’m certain that you’ve not heard of ‘L’Amore dei Tre Re’ as it’s rather obscure, although I believe that you’ll enjoy it.” Hannibal turned on his car’s cd player and selected the third of the five discs it held.

“‘L’Amore’… so it’s about love, but what else should I know about it?” Will asked.

“L’Amore dei Tre Re premiered in 1913. It was written by Italian composer Italo Montemezzi. It’s about a blind king, his reign, and his son’s failed romance. Plenty of excitement, romance, and a sordid affair, all wrapped up with a dash of poison.”

“It sounds exciting, but I don’t know Italian.”

“That’s okay. Opera doesn’t require knowledge of the base language. I’ll introduce the characters as they enter. Archibaldo is the blind king, Mantredo is his son, Princess Fiora is Manfredo’s wife, and Prince Avito is Fiora’s lover. There are various servants and townsfolk, but they are of the typical ilk in a love story such as this.”

The men listened to the opera together, with Hannibal introducing the main characters as promised. As they drove past George C. Yeonas Park, Will told Hannibal that he would want to go from I-66W to VA-243N, onto Nutley Street. “Turn left onto Maple Avenue, and we’ll be right there,” Will directed.

After arriving, the men entered the store and Hannibal asked Will to grab a basket. “We’ll be going out again soon enough, I’m sure we won’t need a cart,” Will insisted. Hannibal raised his eyebrows in silent protest as he walked through the aisles, passing things to Will for him to hold as Will followed behind him. Hannibal grabbed two baguettes, a large wheel of brie, a block of unsalted Irish butter, vanilla extract, a jar of honey, and three large Gala apples. “Hannibal, are we almost done?”

“Almost. I just need some spring mix, olive oil, salami, balsamic vinegar, a head of garlic, a pepper grinder, and a box of kosher salt.” Will shook his head quietly as he followed the gourmand. By the time they reached the counter, their arms were comically full. “I almost forgot, I need wine and heavy whipping cream. Will, I’m assuming that you at least have coffee at home?”

“Uh, I’ve got some Maxwell House, I think.”

Hannibal shook his head irritably before turning to the cashier. “Please, tell me that you have French presses and coffee beans that can be ground in-store.”

“There’s a coffee grinder along the back wall, near the wine. That’s where you’ll find the French presses, too,” the cashier offered.

“Perfect, thank you.” Hannibal smiled politely before trotting off to grab the last items he deemed essential for the next 18 to 24 hours. As Will watched the cashier ring up the items, he was amazed. Already, this short trip was going to cost more than what Will normally spent on both groceries and meals for a week. Of course, he had to admit that he didn’t often cook for himself. In fact, at least half of what he prepared at home was for the dogs. Pretty much every dog food brand that you could find at a grocery store had experienced a recall at some point in recent memory. As Will took in strays, he figured that they’d had a hard enough life – especially Winston, whom Will had found cold, wet, dirty, and hungry – so he wanted to give them the best life possible.

A few minutes went past. “It’s his first time here. He’s from out of town and I, um, don’t think he was expecting any place near Wolf Trap to have such a nice selection,” Will offered as an excuse to the cashier as they both waited awkwardly for Hannibal to return. Thankfully, the shop was nearly deserted this time of day. 

“Are you guys throwing a dinner party?” the cashier asked, regarding Will.

“Us? Oh no. Hannibal has them all the time, but I’m not much of a party guy myself.”

The cashier raised her eyes and looked at Will skeptically. She bit her lip while sizing him up, responding, “you don’t say?”

“I’m more of a stay at home with a warm fire, a glass of whiskey, and my dogs sort of guy. But Hannibal, he’s – ”

“Back as fast as a jack rabbit,” Lecter interjected, smiling at Will as he placed his coffee items and two bottles of wine on the counter. He had both heard and picked up on the cashier’s attempts to flirt with Will, who was clueless, and he attempted to hide his displeasure. “I only picked up two bottles of wine, Will, I hope that will be enough for tonight.” Hannibal let one hand touch Will’s arm the way a lover would touch a partner. He knew that the cashier would notice and add up the various clues.

Will laughed at Hannibal and smirked at him. “Yes, two will be just plenty! Remember what happened the last time you plied me with all that brandy!”

For being an empath, Will was rather clueless about outward appearances. “I do remember! You didn’t even make it into bed, you just fell asleep on the couch.” Hannibal glanced at the cashier and winked lasciviously at her; he knew that he had all but killed her interest in Will.

The cashier blushed before asking, “um, paper or plastic, gentlemen?”

“Paper,” both Will and Hannibal responded at once. Both men smiled again as Hannibal noticed the cashier’s nametag. “Tell me, Veronica, do you happen to have a business card? The next time I’m in town to visit my,” Hannibal paused slightly, “ _friend_ , I may wish to call ahead and check the availability of certain items.”

Veronica looked shocked. “You want a business card? I mean, most people just check out our webpage, but yeah, I think I’ve got one here somewhere.” She searched the drawer below her cash register. “Ah, here you go.”

Lecter took the card from the cashier, looked at it briefly, and smiled. “Veronica, are you the same Veronica who is listed as a manager here?”

“Yep, that’s me!”

“No wonder you were so helpful. Thank you.” Hannibal stuck the card in his coat’s inner breast pocket. It would go into his meal Rolodex at home for use at a later date.

Veronica finished ringing up the groceries. “That’ll be $262.11, gentlemen.”

Will coughed in shock. He’d managed to avoid exclaiming “holy shit!”, whereas Hannibal merely retrieved his American Express Black Card and inserted it into the credit card reader. “Not too bad for some much-needed supplies. After all,” he looked to Will, “you can’t expect me to drink Maxwell House and subsist on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for a week.”

Will laughed with embarrassment. “I, um, don’t have any jelly at home, and my bread is stale, I’m pretty sure. In fact, I’d planned on throwing it out for the squirrels in a few days after I’d gotten some more.”

“Well, I’ve got us two baguettes, so why don’t we torture your poor squirrels tonight - or tomorrow?” Hannibal took a moment to wink once more at Veronica, wiggling his eyebrows toward Will. Veronica glanced at Will’s rear as he had grabbed the bags of groceries and was turned toward the door. “You two have a lovely night,” Veronica winked at Hannibal, who had seen where her eyes had gone and smiled. Will Graham’s rear end was _definitely_ not the least of his assets.

~~~

Will was in the middle of telling Hannibal how to get to his house when Hannibal exclaimed, “I forgot oranges! I seem to recall that they had some Valencias, perhaps I ought to swing back.” 

Will looked at Hannibal as if he were mental. “What do you need oranges for that can’t wait a day or two?”

“Fresh-squeezed orange juice, of course. I remember how much you enjoyed it last time.”

“Hannibal, I can go a day without fresh-squeezed OJ. In fact, I think that’s one of the only things I do keep in stock.”

“Not fresh.”

“Technically… no.”

Hannibal sniffed. “Then why would I drink it?”

“You drink aged wine, just pretend that it’s wine. Seriously, Hannibal, I _just_ bought it on Monday. It’s fine. I’ve kept it in the fridge this whole time.

Hannibal realized that even if he hadn’t forgotten oranges, Will’s ice cubes likely tasted like bog water.

“Do you have well water, Will?”

Will pursed his lips and looked at Hannibal. “Why?”

“I just realized that making fresh orange juice is for naught if you have substandard ice.”

“Hannibal, my ice is fine.” 

“Says the man who routinely drinks store-bought orange juice.” Hannibal looked over at Will. Despite his honest concern over the quality of Will’s water, Will could see a smile at play in Hannibal’s eyes. 

“I mean, you promised me sausage the last time I was with you, and you didn’t follow up on that, so I think I can go without the juice this time.” Will chuckled. “And for the record, I actually buy bagged ice because I don’t want to ruin the taste of my whiskey. I’ll tell you what though, with all this back and forth, I feel like I’m in an episode of The Odd Couple. You’re Felix, obviously. I just hope that you don’t have any weird wheezing habits that you’ve been keeping from me, Hannibal.”

Without letting Will know whether he was aware of who Oscar Madison and Felix Unger were, Hannibal simply responded, “I can assure you that I have no weird wheezing habits of which I am aware.”

“Good. Although, that reminds me, um… Buster snores. Loudly.”

“And all of your dogs sleep inside?”

“Yep.”

“It’s not too late for me to book us a hotel room, Will. In fact, I believe that I’m due a free night or two at the Sagamore Pendry.”

“I have a house, why would I stay in a hotel room with you?”

“I thought that you were going to be my personal FBI detail because you’re my friend and you were concerned for my safety. Or perhaps I should call Jack and ask him for a couple of uniformed toadies, one of whom will inevitably fall asleep on watch, leaving me helpless and vulnerable.”

Will laughed. “I’ve never thought of you as helpless, and I can’t imagine you being vulnerable.”

“Perhaps you just haven’t been paying attention well enough. Or perhaps you just haven’t known me for long enough. Regardless, I can assure you that despite all outward appearances, I am indeed sensitive, in my own way, of course.”

“Of course. You can’t drink store-bought OJ and I don’t think you can go one dinner without a glass of something nice.”

“You only live once,” Hannibal purred.

“Well, I plan on sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

“I thought you normally slept on your pullout couch downstairs,” Hannibal remarked.

“Well, with you around, that’s the plan.”

“Plans can be changed,” Hannibal responded as he turned into Will’s dirt driveway, “but for now, here we are.”

Will smiled at Hannibal. “Just to warn you, the dogs can be a bit much, especially if you’re not really a dog person.” Hannibal popped open the door to the back of his SUV and Will grabbed the bags of groceries and headed towards the sound of frantic dog barks coming from inside his house. Graham balanced one bag against his knee as he withdrew his keys to unlock the door. Nine dogs erupted into a flurry of tail wags and wiggling as three danced around Will in his attempt to put the groceries on a counter in his kitchen while the six others ran in the direction of the car where Hannibal had grabbed his wine box of supplies, a suitcase, and was heading towards the house. 

“Feel free to set stuff wherever for now,” Will announced over his barking dogs. “We can worry about where things go when we’ve got everything in the house.” Will then went back out to grab the last suitcase and Hannibal’s toiletry bag before he closed the rear hatch and guided the dogs following him back to the house. He was surprised to see Hannibal sitting on his stoop with a pocketknife, cutting off small slices of the salami stick he had bought, feeding it to the other dogs as he watched Will approach.

“So, you do like dogs after all?”

“Or rather, they know not to bite the hand that is feeding them,” Hannibal responded after standing up and dusting himself off. He cut a few more bits off to hand to the dogs that hadn’t yet had a piece before he followed Will inside the house, removing his suit jacket and overcoat and hanging them on an empty coat hook near Will’s front door.

“Don’t worry about getting them all in. I’m sure Bugsby and Jerry probably need to pee already anyhow.”

“What do you do when you work late or are gone for days at a time?”

“Either Alana or the neighbor girl from down the road will come let them out and feed them.”

“How far away are your nearest neighbors?”

“A few miles away. Don’t worry, you can blast your chamber music without anyone noticing.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at Will. “You’d let me blast chamber music?”

“Sure, why not? Your love of opera has rubbed off on me. Maybe something else can rub off on me, too.”

Hannibal smirked at what many in his profession would call a Freudian slip. _He most certainly would like to rub off on Will…._

“Here, let me show you around the kitchen while the dogs are out.” Will and Hannibal put the groceries away, and Hannibal unpacked his knives and other cooking supplies on Will’s counter, next to the surprisingly sufficient sink.

“This is quite nice, Will,” Hannibal remarked as he washed his hands. 

“Thanks, as an angler, having a good sink setup is important, especially since I bring them straight home on ice.”

“Perhaps you could take me fishing someday.”

Will grimaced. “I don’t know, Hannibal, you don’t take me as being much of a fisher.”

“I’m betting that I could surprise you.”

Will smiled at Hannibal briefly, touching his shoulder as he moved around him to exit the kitchen. “I bet you could.”


	11. Getting Ready for Dinner

After Will took Hannibal’s three pieces of luggage upstairs to his bedroom, he let the dogs in. Everyone trotted around the chair Hannibal was sitting in. “You didn’t buy that whole salami just for them, did you?” Will asked, sitting opposite of Hannibal. 

“Not solely for them, but their enjoyment was certainly factored in. I figured that I’d kill two birds with one stone, as the saying goes.”

“What’s your other plan for it?”

“Tonight’s dinner. We will warm a baguette up in your oven, and then put a thin coating of unsalted Irish butter on it. Next, I will add long slices of brie, and finally, ovals of salami to make a sandwich that I’m certain will be unlike anything you’ve ever eaten.”

“That sounds… rich.”

“Have you ever had bland food while in my company, Will?” Will didn’t know it, but Hannibal loved saying his name when asking questions of him.

“I certainly have not. Nothing about you is bland. Not your accent or your music or your suits.”

“But you told me when we first met that you didn’t find me interesting.”

“And you told me not to worry because I would find you interesting after all, and you were right. You and Jack Crawford are a lot alike – you’re usually right, even when I don’t want to admit it.”

“Jack is also your friend.”

“Ech,” Will held a palm out flat, fingers wide apart, shaking it. “Jack is my boss. I mean, I get along with him well enough and I think I shared a beer with him once, but if his wife weren’t sick, the only non-professional things I’d say to Jack are ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’. Now, I sometimes take a moment to ask him about his wife.”

“Yes, it is sad about Bella. She is a remarkable woman.”

“Wait,” Will exclaimed, his hands paused in the middle of scratching Buster’s neck, “do you see Mrs. Crawford, too?” Hannibal nodded. “Does Jack have a punch card with you? Do you see Alana or Beverly as well?”

“Not yet,” Hannibal replied drolly.

Will let out a sigh. “That just seems… _wrong_.”

“Why would you believe that, Will?”

“it’s just… I thought that I was the only one you saw.”

Hannibal detected a hint of jealousy in Will’s voice; it caused him to smile slightly. “Surely, you realize that I need more than one client. I even need paying clients. Most psychiatrists have more than one patient anyhow.”

“I can’t imagine anyone having only one.”

“I know of a woman who sees only one patient.”

“Really? That’s got to be weird.”

“I don’t mind it.”

Will shook his head in surprise. “Are you… the patient?”

“Many health care professionals see someone. With everything I encounter in a typical week, it helps me quite a bit.” Will was silent. “Does this knowledge bother you, Will?”

“I just… you seem like the most put together person I know.”

“And perhaps that is because I see a professional of my own to help me assess and cope with my feelings and experiences. There are far too many people in this world in dire need of therapy or other mental health resources who, for one reason or another, don’t get what they need. But Will, just one individual not receiving the help that he or she needs is one too many.”

Will was stunned by Hannibal’s poignant statement. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

“That is something on which we can both agree.” Hannibal was pleased when Will raised his head and met his smile. “Now, may I get you something to drink? Perhaps you’re hungry?”

“Hannibal, this is _my_ house. I should be asking you.”

“I’m fine for now, but I should start chilling the wine. While dinner won’t take long, it’s been quite the day and I could use a glass to settle my nerves.”

“Do you want to go change into something more comfortable?”

“I’m always comfortable in my suits.”

“Okay, but it’s going to end up covered in dog hair, just like all of my furniture and clothes.”

“The majority of my clothes are dry clean only. As for those that aren’t, I have them professionally laundered.”

Will laughed. “Even your underwear?” he blurted out.

“When I wear it, yes.” Hannibal delivered the response matter-of-factly, but he was thrilled at the imagery he knew was running through Will’s head at the moment.

Will’s eyebrows were arched as high as they could go as he spluttered, “I….” He noticed that Hannibal had crossed his legs and he couldn’t help but wonder if Hannibal was hard. Then again, Hannibal usually crossed his legs while they talked. That last thought rung even louder in Will’s head, and he made a concerted effort not to repeat it aloud. “I – have some bottled water. I could grab you one and put a bottle of wine on ice. After all, you bought all of the groceries, and you already have dinner planned, _and_ you made all of the dogs love your salami – ” Will stopped abruptly. One of the few movies he gladly watched whenever it was on was Grumpier Old Men. The outtakes where Burgess Meredith was in the grocery store, talking about his hard salami and man-sized manicotti never failed to make him laugh, but currently, Will himself was bordering on extreme embarrassment. “You’re my guest, Hannibal. Sit. Let me do something to you.”

“ _To_ me? And what do you have in mind?” Hannibal purred.

“ **For** you, dammit. For you. I want to do something nice for you since you’re my guest. Dammit, I am not used to having guests!” Will rose quickly and threw his hands in the air before going into the kitchen and proceeding to make a loud ruckus. Hannibal couldn’t help but be amused at Will’s Freudian slips. He spent most nights since they’d met thinking of various things that Will could do _to_ him. All Will would have had to do is make the first move. Hannibal wouldn’t want to be accused of forcing Will into any particular situation or action, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t ply him with wine, either.

The adrenaline of the day’s events had left Hannibal and he had begun to hurt and feel sore from the beating he took at the hands of Tobias Budge. If he were at home, he would strip and take a long, hot shower, letting steamy droplets envelop his body. However, he was not at home. Instead, Hannibal got up and found his way to Will’s downstairs bathroom where he rolled up his sleeves and turned on the water, letting it run until it got hot. In the meantime, he stripped off the bandages that he had put on when he and Will had gone to his house last. Once the water was hot, Hannibal repeatedly splashed handfuls of water on his face. He looked into the vanity mirror and realized that he probably looked like quiet the sight at the deli. He would have preferred if Will had mentioned it to him before they went into the store. Granted, he looked worse now that his bandages were off. Hannibal brought a hand towel to his face and then rubbed it across the back of his neck. It would make no difference if the dogs got hair on his suit, he would have to replace it anyhow – there was no way that the bloodstains could be removed from either his suit or shirt.

“Hannibal, where are you?”

Hannibal finished cleaning himself up and rejoined Will in the living room. “I suppose I didn’t realize what a fright I looked.”

“It’s barely noticeable.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows at Will, daring him to tell the truth.

“Well, with Band-Aids on it just looked like maybe you had recently been in a car accident or something. I suppose I was just so happy to find you alive and mostly well that I didn’t notice the blood on your collar… or the bruising.” Hannibal’s face seemed to sink. “Hannibal, most people our ages have scars. I was shot in the shoulder. Bullet’s been out for years now, but I’ll always have a physical reminder. You’re still like some Nordic god walking among the rest of us schlubs, so don’t worry. I’m pretty sure that Thor was never lonely.” Will was pleased to see that he’d made Hannibal smile.

“Why don’t I get started on dessert?”

“Already, before dinner? What do you plan on making?

“Une tarte aux pommes – an apple tart. Ideally, I would have bought all of the required supplies, but I’m assuming that you have flour, sugar, and eggs.”

Will thought for a moment. “Actually, yes, I do. Eggs are one of the few things I always keep on hand.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll get started on it. Once I get it into the oven, we should be able to open the wine, and once the tart is out, we can begin warming a baguette for dinner.”

“But you’re still willing to teach me, right?”

“Always. But after we get the tart in the oven, don’t let me forget to take the brie and butter out of the refrigerator so that they’ll warm up. Warm, softened butter is easier to spread, after all.”

“You eat cheese warm?”

“I eat brie warm. Coming to room temperature helps soften it and the air brings out its nutty flavor.”

“I’ll be damned, Hannibal, you learn something new every day.”

“You certainly can if you stick around with me. Now, why don’t you put on some music for both of us – 90.1 FM plays classical this time of night.”

Will turned on the stereo in the living room and turned up the volume so that they could enjoy it in the kitchen. He found Hannibal opening up cupboards and frowning. “What’s wrong?” Will asked.

“Where are your sugar and flour, Will?”

Will walked over to his small pantry closet and opened the door before handing Hannibal two large containers.

“I’ll also need a large mixing bowl, a baking sheet, a smaller bowl, a wire racket, and parchment paper. And please, Will, tell me that you own parchment paper or at least a tart pan.”

Will rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a nearly untouched roll. “You are the savior of our dessert,” Hannibal responded before turning the oven on to preheat it to 350 degrees.”

“Am I going to need an apron for this?”

“It wouldn’t hurt. As a new, fledging chef, you are bound to get messy.”

Will retrieved an apron from inside the pantry before frowning. “Ah, I only have one. Sorry. You can have it if you want.”

“No need. My blood, and I’m certain some of Tobias Budge’s blood, has ruined my whole outfit, so it will be of no consequence if I get a bit messy. Besides, I am used to cooking in my shirt sleeves. Would you prefer me to divide and delegate the tasks, or would you prefer a step-by-step tutorial?” Hannibal asked Will.

“Let’s start off with step-by-step. ‘Never know when I might need to impress someone when I don’t have you around,” Will responded. Hannibal wanted to invite Will to move in with him, live with him, but he knew that it wouldn’t be sustainable long term. Will had too many dogs in that Will had dogs, and Hannibal required meat at his table with his preferred method being rude individuals slaughtered like pigs.

Hannibal looked at Will’s apron before washing the apples. “Kiss the cook, is that an invitation?”

Will blushed. “It’s a… sort of gag gift from my aunt. She keeps telling me that I’m of the age to settle down and she knows that I love to fish, so she gave it to me a few years ago for Christmas. I’d started dating Ashley in September but by the time Christmas had rolled around, she’d already dumped me. My aunt had picked up the apron in October, and sent it as a Christmas gift.”

“Have you dated since?” Hannibal asked. He’d peeled the apples and placed them and a large paring knife on Will’s butcher block.

Will grinned wryly and tilted his head before shaking it. “Nope. And now that I’m working with Jack, I’m not about to subject some unsuspecting girl to all of that, all of me. What about you, Hannibal, you’re older than me. ‘Ever been married, engaged?”

“No. I am demisexual and I find it hard to bond with most people. I suppose since I am a psychiatrist and am used to keeping myself at a distance, perhaps that helps account for my lack of emotional bond with most people.”

“So, you’re only attracted to people you’ve bonded with?” Will asked, sidling up to the butcher’s block and grabbing the knife.

“That is correct. I’ve got to get to know someone before I find that person attractive. Now, it’s not just cutting up the apples. You’ll want to slice them in long, thin slices.”

Will sliced three pieces off of an apple. “Is this okay?”

Hannibal came up behind Will and placed his hands over Will’s. “Almost, but we want them sliced a bit thinner, like this,” Hannibal looked over Will’s shoulder as he manipulated Will’s hands to slice three more pieces. “Like this.” Will could feel Hannibal’s breath on the back of his neck. It caused a patch of goosebumps to arise – Will hadn’t been this close to anyone – man or woman – in quite some time.

“Thanks,” Will answered breathily.

After Will had finished with the apples, Hannibal placed the slices into a spare bowl of water, adding a squeeze of lemon juice from a plastic lemon he found in Will’s fridge. “This will help prevent them from browning while we prepare the crust.” Hannibal then moved towards the sink and began measuring out flower, sugar, salt, and cinnamon, moving purposefully and narrating his actions to show Will what he was accomplishing. After a dough was formed, Hannibal lined a pie tin with that he had found amongst Will’s cookware with parchment paper. He then invited Will to help him press the dough into a pie tin.

“Shit, I pressed a hole in it!”

“Don’t worry, we need only patch it up and remember to use a softer touch. Here, put your hands on top of mine so you can feel what a light touch I’m using.” Will moved so that he was standing opposite of Hannibal and did as he was told, realizing that Hannibal’s touch was at least half as hard as he’d been using.

“That explains my problem – it’s like you’ve got an angel’s touch,” Will remarked.

“Not quite, although I’m going to consider that a compliment.” Hannibal looked directly at Will and smiled before he moved back to the bowl of apple slices, draining out the water. “Now, we’re adding some of your nearly solid brown sugar, salt, vanilla, cinnamon, and some more lemon juice.” He poured in the ingredients before handing a spatula to Will. “Next, you’re going to mix them up nice and good so that there’s an even coat amongst the slices.” Yet again, Will did as he was told but it was obvious to Hannibal that Will struggled in attempting to keep the slices from escaping the bowl.

“Damn, Hannibal!” Will exclaimed as Hannibal managed to catch a slice mid-air that had escaped the bowl.

Hannibal placed his other hand on Will’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Open up and take a bite.” Hannibal offered Will a bite of the apple slice before eating the rest of it. “We still made use of it.”

“Mmm, that was good!”

“Along with being delicious, apples are good for you; however, I can assure you that even eating one a day will not keep me away.”

Will groaned comically. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away? I never thought that you were the dad joke kind of guy.”

“Perhaps Abigail has turned me into a father figure. Do I seem like a daddy to you, Will?”

Will started to laugh. “You’re lucky that I didn’t have anything in my mouth just now! I’m – ” Will paused, removing the spatula from the bowl, “going to need some wine – a **lot** of wine if you want me to answer that. So, what do we do now besides take out the brie and butter?”

Hannibal’s eyes had been looking both into and through Will at once. He snapped back to the present. “For the tart? We place the apples into the crust and place bits of sugar and butter on top.” Will followed Hannibal’s lead after seeing how he was carefully placing the slices so that their curves edges were facing outward. “Now, we drizzle some of the honey we brought earlier. We place it in the oven to bake for an hour and in the meantime, we open that pinot grigio that you put on ice for us.”

Will retrieved a cork puller out of a utensil drawer and handed it to Hannibal. “I’m sure you’ve done this hundreds of times more than I have, so I’ll leave it to the master while I find my glasses.” Hannibal opened the wine with ease as he watched Will rise on his toes to reach two stemmed glasses from a rarely touched corner cabinet.

“Would you like a hand?” Hannibal asked, watching Will from behind, enjoying the view.

“I can only grab one,” Will sighed.

Hannibal put the bottle back into the small bucket that Will had used as a wine chiller, walking up behind Will yet again. This time, he grabbed the counter with one hand and pressed his body up against Will’s, his chest fully pressed against Will’s back as his nimble fingers plucked the errant glass that Will’s fingers could not reach. He inhaled the smell of Will’s hair as he could feel the heat radiating off of Will’s body. If he were of a more sensitive, uncontrolled disposition, Hannibal would have an erection which he would feel straining against his silk boxers. Instead, he let his body slide back down Will’s body, breaking the physical connection between them before anything else happened. He wordlessly returned to the wine bucket as he poured them both a respectable glass of wine, holding one out to Will as his glass was poised in the air. “To us. To you saving me, and to your hospitality.” The men clinked their glasses before Will toasted him in return.

“To you, and to our first cooking lesson.”

“Here’s to many more,” Hannibal added before they touched their glasses again. Hannibal watched as Will took a healthy sip, wincing as he swallowed it. “I take it that you do not know how to taste your wine with your first sip?”

Will blushed slightly as he gave a crooked grin. “Is it that obvious? I mean, I like it. It’s good. Of course it’s good though, you chose it.”

“Here, follow my lead. Normally, I would pour just a taste first, but I am well-acquainted with this particular brand and vintage, and there was no dust on the bottle, so I felt confident that I could pour without thoroughly tasting it. Besides, I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” Hannibal smiled seductively. “Hold up your glass to the light and notice the color. There should be no sediment floating around. Now, swirl your glass slightly and bring it to your nose so that you can take in the aroma. What do you smell?”

Hmm, pear and… oak?”

“Very good. Now, back away and approach your glass again and see if you can’t smell a tangy citrus hint.”

Will sniffed his glass again. “Yeah, I think so. It’s nice!”

“Now, we taste. But this isn’t about just taking a sip. No, Will. You’ve got to curl up your tongue such that there are ridges for the wine to travel upon. Make a quasi-sucking noise.” Hannibal demonstrated, taking a small sip and making a noise that, to Will, sounded like “ _slslslslsl_ ”. 

“You take a small sip, suck in air over your tongue and tilt your head back slightly so that it naturally travels down your throat. You try.”

Will attempted Hannibal’s technique, but started coughing. “I think I got some up my nose!”, he exclaimed.

Hannibal laughed. “You’ll get used to it eventually if you keep practicing.”

“I’m normally a whiskey or beer guy,” Will admitted, taking a regular sip of his wine and enjoying it.

“Stay with me and you’ll get used to it. You like opera now, and I can guarantee that you’ll like tonight’s simple yet delicious dinner. Now, why don’t we go enjoy the music while the tort bakes?”

Will took off his apron and threw it on a counter before following Hannibal back to the living room. Hannibal had hardly been at Will’s a few hours and he was already acting as if he were the one entertaining Will. “Do you mind if I let the dogs in?” Will asked, “I’ll give them dinner before we eat so that they’ll be on the porch.”

“As you wish. I am merely your guest.”

Will looked at Hannibal a moment, watching him sip his wine. “You’re more than my guest, you’re my – " he paused a moment, “friend.” Will stepped over to the door and let the dogs in. He was glad that he’d folded the pullout back before he went to work today. Oftentimes he didn’t, but having his de facto bed in plain sight was an embarrassment, especially considering that it was Hannibal whom he was entertaining. Will knew that Hannibal both appreciated and enjoyed the finer things in life, and Will knew that he would be aghast to see a set of plain white cotton bedsheets being used since this was Will’s home and not at a cheap motel or a hospital _. Perhaps Hannibal was starting to change him_ , Will thought as he took his seat opposite of Hannibal.


	12. Making Dinner

The men sat, talked, and listened to Mozart, Brahms, and Beethoven. They replenished their glasses while waiting for the tart to finish baking. When the timer on Will’s oven went off, it surprised him. “I had no clue it had a timer!”

Hannibal smiled. “While this cools, we can get started on dinner, provided that you’ve developed an appetite.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Then follow me.” Hannibal took his wine glass and drained it before going into the kitchen and, out of habit, donning Will’s apron. The wine had helped dull the pain he’d been experiencing from his earlier adventure that day, and he was feeling good. “Oven mitts?”

Will opened a drawer and pulled out two relatively new mitts. They came with the apron so he hadn’t used them much. Will held the gloves out so that Hannibal could slip his hands inside before he carefully opened the oven. “C’est parfait!” he murmured. He retrieved the tart and put it on the wire rack that Will usually used for broiling fish. “Now, while that cools, we lower the temperature of the oven slightly so that it doesn’t dry out the bread. Then,” Hannibal grabbed his bread knife and a baguette, “we cut the bread in half lengthwise to open it and then we cut it in half so that we each have a nice length of sandwich. This will only take a few minutes, so in the meantime, we can cut the strips of brie and medallions of salami.”

“What about the butter?”

“We put that on after the bread comes out. Just a thin layer, then a small sprinkle of kosher salt and pepper for seasoning. Then, we lay the brie on the bread, followed by the salami, we refill our glasses, and voilà, dinner!” Hannibal gave Will a smile – he was happy that Will seemed to be genuinely eager to know the process despite appearing irritated at the deli by how long it took Hannibal to pick out supplies. “And the best part is that there should be plenty of salami left over to cut a bit up for the dogs. After all, why should we be the only ones dining upon it tonight?”

Will knew that Hannibal wasn’t really a dog – or even an animal – person, but he also recognized the conscious effort Hannibal was making towards his dogs. In fact, Bugsby was standing near Hannibal’s feet – which were clad only in fine dress socks – calmly watching the strange man work. “I think he likes you already!” Will exclaimed.

Hannibal looked down at the dog. “Which one is this? From how you described him, this doesn’t seem to be Buster.”

“Nope, but almost. This is Bugsby. He’s my first stray.”

“And I am your newest. Perhaps he is meaning to welcome me.”

Will chuckled. “Well, for now, at least. I’m not much into people, but there’s room for another dog if he’s lost and lonely, without a home.”

Hannibal regarded Will. “You have a good heart, Will.”

“Sometimes I feel like you’re the only one who sees me as someone other than the weird empath who can figure out serial killers.”

“We are all unique beings with our own histories, traumas, and worldviews.”

Will stood looking at Hannibal as if trying to make a decision. Hannibal raised his head slightly. Will began to move towards him just as the oven timer went off. “Time to eat. Will, if you could let the dogs out and fill our glasses, s’il vous plat?”

“Um, yeah, certainly.” Will looked at his kitchen. “Sorry that I don’t really have a kitchen table, but I’ve got stools tucked under the counter, across and down the way from the sink.”

“That should work just fine.” Hannibal started to assemble the sandwiches. Will got the dogs outside and washed his hands as Hannibal found the stools and brought their plates to the counter. Will had taken a seat and refilled their wine glasses.

“Mmm, the bread smells amazing, Hannibal.”

“Try a bite.”

Hannibal watched as Will took a large bite. When he pulled the sandwich away from his mouth, his lips shined from the layer of butter on the bread. He smiled and licked his lips. “I normally don’t keep napkins around either, unfortunately.”

“I see a roll of paper towel, let me grab some.” Hannibal brought back two pieces and handed one to Will. “Here.”

Will wiped his lips and looked up at Hannibal. Thanks for that, and for this. This sandwich is amazing – I can’t believe something so simple could be so delicious!”

“You have many things to learn, and I have many things to share with you, if you’re open to my influence.”

“Keep feeding me like this, and you’ll have a hard time getting rid of me,” Will replied before taking another bite of his sandwich. After taking a large sip of his wine, he added, “and this wine goes surprisingly well with it, too. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mister Perfect.”

“At least from outward appearances. Although, after my run in with Mr. Budge, I don’t appear pristine even in my appearance.”

Will blinked and looked Hannibal right in the eye. “You look just fine, trust me. You on your worst day is still better than me on my best.”

“Perhaps we’ll have to get you to my tailor then.”

“Perhaps!” Will agreed.


	13. Tart Time

Soon, the men had finished their sandwiches. “Shit, we’re nearly out of wine,” Will noticed. “I’ll split the rest of this bottle, and then we can break into my bourbon. It’s probably not expensive compared to your usual tastes, but it _is A_ single barrel. And even regular old Four Roses is good, at least to me.”

Hannibal sliced the tart and reached over the sink to hand a plate to Will. “If I’d had my mind better about me, I’d have picked up ice cream for us, too.”

Will swallowed his first bite before speaking. “Are you kidding me? This is great! It’s like… sex on a plate!” Realizing what he’d just said, Will blushed before finishing off his wine and trotting off to the other room to grab the bourbon. “Um, let me get us some rocks glasses and rocks,” Will offered in an attempt to make his own dad joke.

Hannibal shrugged before finishing his own wine, setting their glasses near the sink so that they wouldn’t get knocked over. He had been standing near the refrigerator, leaning with his back against the counter so that he had full view of Will as he experienced their night’s dessert. Will stepped toward him holding two rocks glasses. “How do you say it, ‘pour toi’ – is that right?” Will asked as he extended one glass to Hannibal.

Hannibal took the glass, clinked it against Will’s, and took a small sip before purring, “for you – pour _vous_.”

Will noticed how Hannibal’s lips formed to speak the foreign language as if he were born into it. The doctor had high, aristocratic cheekbones. He was also still wearing Will’s apron. A wide grin breaking out on Will’s lips, he downed his freshly poured drink and slid his left hand between the refrigerator and Lecter to set his glass on the counter nearby. With his right hand, Will grabbed Hannibal’s shirt collar and yanked it down until their lips met. He groaned instinctively as he let his body press up against Hannibal’s. Will could taste the burst skin around Hannibal’s lips where Budge had punched him. He could feel Hannibal tensing slightly from the pain despite allowing Will to encroach upon his personal space and comfort, and Will found himself unexpectedly, instantly aroused. Hannibal moaned upon feeling Will’s erection, and Will took the opportunity to shove his tongue between Hannibal’s lips. 

“Hannibal, come with me,” Will whispered on the other man’s lips as he led Hannibal over to the butcher block. Will pulled back enough to give his hands room to undo Hannibal’s pants. He reached inside and smirked at feeling the silk of Hannibal’s boxers. “Only the best for you,” Will purred, pleased to find that Hannibal was already getting hard. He slipped Hannibal’s trousers off of his well-toned hips so that they would fall to the floor. His left hand grasped Hannibal’s still clothed cock and squeezed it, eliciting a feral noise from Hannibal. Will grabbed the back of Hannibal’s head with his right hand as he let his tongue slip between Hannibal’s teeth before placing small kisses on and around Hannibal’s lips, taking care where Hannibal was obviously hurt.

“Wearing my apron worked, but it’s time for it to come off now,” Will announced before wrapping his hands around Hannibal’s waist to untie the apron. Hannibal lifted it from around his neck and let it fall to the floor. Will spun Hannibal around as he spoke. “Turn around, hands on the table, and spread your legs like you’re getting frisked.” Hannibal did as he was told before Will pulled off Hannibal’s boxers. Will placed a hot, wet kiss on Hannibal’s shoulder before crouching down. He smiled as he placed his hands on Hannibal’s buttocks before pulling them apart to spread them slightly. If Will hadn’t been so excited, he would have noticed Hannibal’s breath audibly inhale through his teeth, his lips parted. Will licked his lips, blinked, and smiled before using his tongue to wipe Hannibal’s asshole. Hannibal was clean, tasting slightly salty from his exertion with Tobias Budge. _Of course, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, purveyor of all things fine and expensive would have a bidet_ , Will chuckled silently to himself. He rubbed his tongue up and down so that it was flat against Hannibal’s hole; it drove him crazy and without thinking, Will removed his tongue and quickly bit Hannibal’s left buttock cheek. It was not a hard bite, but he could tell that he’d surprised Hannibal when he felt Hannibal’s legs stiffen for an instant.

Will stood up, slapping Hannibal’s ass as he rose. “Enjoying this so far?” he asked gently, his hot breath against Hannibal’s collar. He saw Hannibal nod his head yes. “Good, then take off your shirt so I can feel your skin against mine.” Hannibal seemed as though he couldn’t get his shirt off fast enough, and as soon as it was on the floor keeping Will’s apron company, Will let his teeth graze Hannibal’s shoulder before sucking hard. He wanted to leave a mark on Hannibal, but not one that would be seen, or hurt. Meanwhile, his hands touched Hannibal’s body, exploring his back, hips, and when he reached around from behind, Hannibal’s chest.

After leaving a slight dark mark on Hannibal’s tanned shoulder, Will stripped off his own clothes before spitting in his hand and using it as lubrication. It had been some time since Hannibal had anally penetrated himself, and he tensed slightly upon feeling Will slowly forcing himself inside his ass. He’d always suspected as much, but he could feel that Will was quite large. It caused Hannibal to throw his head back and bite his lower lip. He felt a wound on his lip break open and he let his tongue dart out to taste his own blood before he was forced to grip the butcher’s block to keep from losing his balance. Once Will had managed to fit his cock inside of Hannibal, he started to thrust as if he were a rutting stag, anxious to spill his seed in Hannibal’s hot, tight hole. It was then that both men had the same thought: **_it felt_ so _good._**

With each thrust, Will seemed to throw himself deeper and deeper into Hannibal. While the psychiatrist was usually of an unconcerned nature, he soon joined Will in breathing loudly. It didn’t take long until Hannibal let go of what control he still maintained and screamed out in ecstasy. Will slapped his hands onto Hannibal’s hips, thrusting faster, deeper. Hannibal shouted Will’s name as Will threw back his head and moaned loud enough to drown out anything else in his ears as he lost control and pumped his seed deep into Hannibal, his orgasm strong and depleting. Both men slumped over after their mutual exertion. After he felt confident that his legs wouldn’t go out on him, Will turned Hannibal around and let his lips touch Hannibal’s chin. “You shouldn’t wear an apron that says ‘kiss the cook’ unless you mean it,” Will purred sweetly.

“You’re assuming that I was not purposeful in putting it on. After all, I told you that I’d be throwing my shirt away, that it was not needed.” Hannibal let his lips graze Will’s cheek.

“Give it to me.”

“My shirt?”

“Yeah, I want it. I want to be able to smell you when you aren’t here.” Will put his arms around Hannibal. 

A smirk appeared on Hannibal’s face. Will realized that Hannibal had given him that smirk nearly every time the two had ever met. Will had thought it was the smirk of a man who knew that he was the smartest man in the room. Now, however, Will realized that it was the smirk of a man completely smitten and in love. However, Will was unable to dissect this realization farther before Hannibal ran his hands through Will’s hair, kissing him deeply despite knowing where Will’s tongue was just minutes before. The kiss was that of a drowning man, alone in the world, save for the object of his affection. Will couldn’t piece together everything at the moment, but he tried thinking of the ambulance. The day he’d seen Hannibal perform emergency surgery, rolling up his sleeves and donning a pair of gloves, working swiftly, silently, save for his responses to Jack Crawford’s questions… perhaps their overlapping spheres pushed them together, but it took libations and one another’s companionship for Will to see that he never wanted to lose Hannibal. _Was it love?_ No… it was more akin to, well, a codependent obsession, almost. 

“Will, your tart has gone cold.”

Will’s eyebrows raised in amusement as laughter escaped his lips. “Hannibal, I just made – we just had hot, dirty kitchen sex, and you remind me about dessert?”

“Would you expect anything less of me?” Hannibal asked, placing a small peck on the tip of Will’s nose. Hannibal’s eyes were half-closed in postcoital bliss.

“And I just realized that the dogs are still outside. Well, that’s probably for the best anyhow. Who wants a dog’s nose up their ass?”

“You seemed to enjoy mine,” Hannibal purred. “Tell me, Will, was that your first time?”

“Having anal sex? No. Having anal sex with a man? Yes.” Will blushed slightly as he slipped back into his jockey shorts and sat back down on his stool to finish his tart.

“May I assume that I’ll be joining you upstairs in bed tonight?”

“Yes, if I’m lucky.”

“And the dogs?”

“They can sleep on the floor. All except Buster, he might end up jumping on the bed, but he usually stays near my feet or calves. He’s been through a lot in life, so be nice to him. You’ve got an amazing ass, but my dogs were here first.”

“How many of your previous sexual conquests have brought over expensive sausage for your pack, Will?”

Will put his fork down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… it’s just… it’s been awhile since I’ve done anything more than go out for a beer with someone, and even that hasn’t happened much.”

“The next time you go out, what will you say about tonight? Jack knows that I’m here with you tonight, what will you say if he asks you about your houseguest?”

“I’ll say that you gave me a wonderful cooking lesson.”

~~~FIN... POUR MAINTENANT~~~


End file.
